confirmed. It was also best not to do so. He had certainly
taken him very severely to task on account of his ungrateful behaviour
at the time, and had demanded of him that he should treat them more
considerately and his mother also more affectionately. And the lad, who
had no doubt repented of his conduct long ago, had stood there like a
poor sinner; he had said nothing and had not raised his eyes. And when
his father had finally led him to his mother, he had allowed himself to
be led and to be embraced by his mother, who had thrown both her arms
round his neck. She had wept over him and then kissed him.

And then nothing more had ever been said about it.

The white house with its bright green and red, which was always
being embellished and improved, both inside and out, struck everybody
who passed by as extremely cosy. The trippers on Sundays used to stand
outside the wrought iron railing and admire the abundance of flowers,
the ivy-leaved geraniums on the balconies and the splendid show of fine
rose-trees in summer, the azaleas and camellias behind the thick glass
of the conservatory and the rows of coloured primulas and early
hyacinths and tulips between the double windows in winter. The lady in
her dress of soft cloth and with the wavy grey hair and the gentle
face, with its rather sad smile, suited the house and the
flowers and her peaceful surroundings well. "Delightful," the people
used to say.

When Wolfgang heard such things in former years when he was a boy,
he used to make faces at the people: the house and garden were no
concern of theirs, there was nothing to admire about them. Now it
flattered him when they remained standing, when they even envied him.
Oh yes, the place was quite nice. He felt very important.

Paul Schlieben and his wife had never placed any special value on
money, they had always had enough, a competency was simply a matter of
course to them; and they never guessed that their son placed any value
on wealth. When Wolfgang used to think now of how little he had once
cared for it all in his boyish impetuosity, and that he had run away
without money, without bread, he had to smile. How childish. And when
he remembered that he once, when he was already older and able to
reflect upon his actions, had asked impetuously for something that
would have been equivalent to giving up all that made his life so
comfortable, he shook his head now. Too silly.

To compare himself with others afforded h