ing.

"Good evening," he said in a loud and cheery voice. And then he
cleared his throat as though swallowing a slight embarrassment and said
in a low voice, approaching his mother a little more: "I beg your
pardon, mater, I've overslept myself. I had no idea it was so late--I
was dead tired."

Still she did not say anything.

He did not know how he stood with her. She was so quiet, that
confused him a little. "The fact is, I came home very late last
night."

"Oh! did you?" She turned her head away from him and looked
out into the garden again with eyes full of interest, where her husband
was just speaking to Friedrich and pointing with his finger to an
ornamental cherry-tree that was already in bloom.

"I think so, at least," he said. What was he to say? Was she angry?
He must indeed have come home very late, he could not remember at what
time, altogether he could not remember anything clearly, everything
seemed rather blurred to him. He had also had a bad dream and had felt
wretched, but now he was all right again, quite all right. Well, if she
had any fault to find with him, she would have to come out with it.

Pointing his lips again so as to whistle like a bird and with his
hands in the pockets of his smart, well-cut trousers, he was about to
go down into the garden from the veranda when she called him back.

"Do you want anything, mater?"

"You were drunk," she said softly, vehemently.

"I--? Oh!" He was overcome with a sudden confusion. Had he really
been drunk? He had no idea of it. But she might be right all the same,
for he had no idea how he had come home.

"I suppose you've again been sitting up waiting for me?" He gave her
a suspicious sidelong glance, and frowned so heavily that his dark
eyebrows met. "You mustn't always wait up for me," he said with secret
impatience, but outwardly his tone was anxious. "It makes me lose all
liking to do anything with the others if I think you are sacrificing
your night's rest. Please don't do so again, mater."

"I won't do so again," she said, with her eyes fixed on her lap. She
could not have looked at him, she despised him so. How broad and big
and bold he had looked as he stood there saying good evening quite
happily. He had behaved as if he knew nothing of all that
had happened, that he had wanted to creep on all fours, stretch
himself on the doorstep as if that were his bed or he a dog. He was
as unembarrassed as though he had not been lying in his roo