enough to reveal the scar on his thigh from his war days, "because she lifted her skirts like this and like that, you threw yourself on her, and in order to have your way with her undisturbed, you disgraced your mother's memory, betrayed your friend, and shoved your father into bed so that he can't move. But can he move, or can't he?"
And he stood up, independent of any support, and kicked out his legs. He was radiant with insight.
Georg stood in a corner, as far from his father as possible. He had already made up his mind years ago to guard his every move so as to be on the lookout for a surprise attack from above, behind, or below. He recalled this long-forgotten resolve just now and as quickly forgot it, like a short length of thread drawn through the eye of a needle.
"But your friend has not been betrayed after all!" cried his father, punctuating his words with a pointed finger. "I've been representing him locally."
"What a comedian!" burst from Georg, but he realized just as soon the damage that had been done, and only too late bit down—his eyes bulging—so hard on his tongue that he recoiled in pain.
"Yes, I have been acting out a play! A play! Great word! What other comfort was left for an old widowed father? Tell me—and when you answer, still be my living son—what was left for me, in my back room, plagued by a disloyal staff, and old to the very marrow? And my son saunters exultantly through the world, closing deals I had prepared, falling all over himself with joy, and slinking away from his father with the stiff mug of an honorable man! Do you think I didn't love you, I who fathered you?"
"Now he's going to lean forward," thought Georg; "what if he fell and shattered to pieces!" These words buzzed through his brain.
His father did lean forward but did not tumble. Since Georg had not come any nearer, as expected, his father righted himself again.
"Stay where you are, I don't need you! You think you still have the power to come over here and only hold back of your own free will. Don't fool yourself! I am still stronger by far. Alone I may have had to yield, but Mother left her strength to me, your friend has joined me in a splendid alliance, and I have your clientele here in my pocket!"
"He even has pockets in his nightshirt!" Georg said to himself, and believed that this remark could render his father ridiculous before the whole world. But this thought stayed with him only a moment, because he always forgot everything.
"Just bring your fiancée around here on your arm! I'll sweep her from your side, you don't know how quick!"
Georg grimaced in disbelief. His father merely nodded at Georg's corner, assuring the truth of his words.
"How you amused me today, coming to ask me if you should tell your friend about your engagement. He already knows it, you stupid boy, he knows everything! I've been writing because you forgot to take away my writing things. That's why he hasn't come here for years, he knows everything a hundred times better than you; he crumples your unread letters in his left hand while he holds up his right hand to read my letters!"
He flung his arms over his head in his enthusiasm. "He knows everything a thousand times better!" he cried.
"Ten thousand times!" said Georg, to ridicule his father, but the words came out of his mouth deadly earnest.
"For years I've been waiting for you to come to me with this question! Do you think I've been interested in anything else? Do you believe I read newspapers? Look!" and he threw at Georg a sheet of newspaper that had somehow been swept into the bed. It was an old newspaper whose name was entirely unfamiliar to him.
"How long you fought off your adulthood! Your mother had to die, she couldn't witness the joyous day; your friend is rotting in Russia, three years ago he was already yellow enough to toss out, and as for me, you can see how I'm faring. You can see that much!"
"So you've been waiting to pounce on me!" cried Georg.
In a pitying
And he stood up, independent of any support, and kicked out his legs. He was radiant with insight.
Georg stood in a corner, as far from his father as possible. He had already made up his mind years ago to guard his every move so as to be on the lookout for a surprise attack from above, behind, or below. He recalled this long-forgotten resolve just now and as quickly forgot it, like a short length of thread drawn through the eye of a needle.
"But your friend has not been betrayed after all!" cried his father, punctuating his words with a pointed finger. "I've been representing him locally."
"What a comedian!" burst from Georg, but he realized just as soon the damage that had been done, and only too late bit down—his eyes bulging—so hard on his tongue that he recoiled in pain.
"Yes, I have been acting out a play! A play! Great word! What other comfort was left for an old widowed father? Tell me—and when you answer, still be my living son—what was left for me, in my back room, plagued by a disloyal staff, and old to the very marrow? And my son saunters exultantly through the world, closing deals I had prepared, falling all over himself with joy, and slinking away from his father with the stiff mug of an honorable man! Do you think I didn't love you, I who fathered you?"
"Now he's going to lean forward," thought Georg; "what if he fell and shattered to pieces!" These words buzzed through his brain.
His father did lean forward but did not tumble. Since Georg had not come any nearer, as expected, his father righted himself again.
"Stay where you are, I don't need you! You think you still have the power to come over here and only hold back of your own free will. Don't fool yourself! I am still stronger by far. Alone I may have had to yield, but Mother left her strength to me, your friend has joined me in a splendid alliance, and I have your clientele here in my pocket!"
"He even has pockets in his nightshirt!" Georg said to himself, and believed that this remark could render his father ridiculous before the whole world. But this thought stayed with him only a moment, because he always forgot everything.
"Just bring your fiancée around here on your arm! I'll sweep her from your side, you don't know how quick!"
Georg grimaced in disbelief. His father merely nodded at Georg's corner, assuring the truth of his words.
"How you amused me today, coming to ask me if you should tell your friend about your engagement. He already knows it, you stupid boy, he knows everything! I've been writing because you forgot to take away my writing things. That's why he hasn't come here for years, he knows everything a hundred times better than you; he crumples your unread letters in his left hand while he holds up his right hand to read my letters!"
He flung his arms over his head in his enthusiasm. "He knows everything a thousand times better!" he cried.
"Ten thousand times!" said Georg, to ridicule his father, but the words came out of his mouth deadly earnest.
"For years I've been waiting for you to come to me with this question! Do you think I've been interested in anything else? Do you believe I read newspapers? Look!" and he threw at Georg a sheet of newspaper that had somehow been swept into the bed. It was an old newspaper whose name was entirely unfamiliar to him.
"How long you fought off your adulthood! Your mother had to die, she couldn't witness the joyous day; your friend is rotting in Russia, three years ago he was already yellow enough to toss out, and as for me, you can see how I'm faring. You can see that much!"
"So you've been waiting to pounce on me!" cried Georg.
In a pitying
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