The Later Life Part 45

"They talk about me?"

"Yes, they talk about you, Dad."

"What do they say?"

"They talk of you, Dad, and...."

"Well?"

"Marianne."

"She is going to Baarn ... and then we sha'n't see each other any more. People are always ready to jabber ... because I've gone cycling and motoring ... with Marianne."

It was as though he were confessing and denying in the same breath.

"Addie," he continued, "I cycled a great way to-day."

"Yes, Dad."

"I can always think best when I'm cycling like mad."

"Yes, Dad, I know."

"When I'm scorching along the roads, like a lunatic, I can think. At any other time, I can't."

"Yes."

"And I thought a great deal to-day, Addie. As a rule, I never think about anything. It tired me to-day even more than the cycling itself. I'm tremendously tired."

"Well, Dad, go to bed."

"No, I want to talk to you. I want to sit with you like this. You're my friend, aren't you, your father's friend? Or aren't you that any longer?"

"Of course I am."

"You're so cold, Addie, you don't care a bit."

"Yes, Dad, I do care."

And he pulled Van der Welcke to him and pressed his father's head against his chest:

"Lie like that now and talk away. I do care."

"I thought a great deal, Addie, cycling. This morning, I was angry, furious, desperate. I could have done something violent, broken something, murdered somebody."

"Come, come!..."

"Yes, murdered ... I don't know whom ... I felt, Addie, that I could have become very happy if...."

"Yes, Dad, I know...."

"You know?"

"Yes."

"You understand?"

"Yes, I understand."

"When I came home, I was tired and mad with misery. Mamma came upstairs and talked to me. She told me that Van Vreeswijck ... had asked her to go to the Bezuidenhout and speak to Aunt Bertha ... and to Marianne, because Van Vreeswijck ... do you understand?"

"Yes, Dad."

"Mamma went. I was furious when I heard that she had been. But she said that Marianne refused...."

"Marianne refused him?"

"Yes. Then ... then Mamma said ... then she asked ... if it wouldn't be better that we--she and I--do you understand?"

"Yes, Dad."

"She said it in a very nice way. She said it gently, not at all angrily. It was nice of her to think of it, you know, Addie."

"Yes, Dad, she is nice."

"Well, old chap, then ... then I gave her a kiss ... because she was so nice about it and said it so kindly. And then ... then I went cycling again."

"Yes."

"I can think best when I'm cycling. I rode and rode. Meanwhile, I was thinking, would it be a good thing?... My boy, you are more than my son, aren't you: you're my friend?"

"Yes."

"All the time, I was thinking ... of Marianne. I am fond of her, Addie."

"Yes, Father."

"I tried to imagine it ... I know ... that she is fond of me, Addie."

"Yes."

"I tried to picture it ... And then, Addie ... then I thought myself old. Tell me, I am old, don't you think?"

"You are not old, Father."

"No, perhaps not.... Still, Addie, I don't know, I really don't know.... Then, Addie, I thought...."

"Of what, Dad, of whom?"