r own confirmation
last Easter had been. She had not had any gold watch, only quite a
small brooch of imitation gold--it had cost one shilling and sixpence,
for she had chosen it herself with her mother--but she had been so
happy, so happy.

"What text did you get?" she asked quickly, so as to take his
thoughts away from it.

"I don't know it by heart," he said evasively, and his
cheeks that had grown pale flamed. "But it suited." And with that he
went out of the door.

He went straight home--why should he waste any more time? the matter
was urgent. He did not notice the starlings flying in and out of their
boxes on the tall pines, did not notice that there was already a bright
crescent in the evening sky that was growing darker and darker, and a
golden star near it, he only noticed with satisfaction as he entered
the hall at the villa that the coats and hats had disappeared from
the pegs. That was good, the visitors had left. He rushed to the
drawing-room, he almost fell into the room. His father and mother were
still sitting there--no, his father and she, the--the----

"Come, tell us where you've been such along time," inquired his
father, not without a touch of vexation in his voice.

"To-day, just on this day," said his mother. "They all sent you
their love, they waited for you. But it's almost eight o'clock
now."

Wolfgang cast an involuntary glance at the clock on the
mantel-piece--right, nearly eight o'clock. But all that was immaterial
now. And, staring straight in front of him as though his eyes were
fixed on some object, he placed himself in front of the two.

"I have something to ask you," he said. And then--it came out quite
suddenly, quite abruptly. "Whose child am I?"

Now it was said. The young voice sounded hard. Or did it only sound
so cutting to Kate's ears? She heard something terribly shrill, like
the dissonant blast of a trumpet. O God, there it was, that awful
question. A sudden wave of blood laid a thick veil covered with
glittering spots before her eyes; she could not see her boy any more,
she only heard his question. She stretched out her hand
gropingly, helplessly--thank God, there was her husband! He was still
there. And now she heard him speak.

"What makes you ask that question?" said Paul Schlieben. "Our son of
course. Whose child could you be otherwise?"

"I don't know. That's just what I want to know from you," the boy
went on in his hard voice.

It was strange how calm th