lessness. He spoke of Rome, he even spoke of De
Staffelaer, who was still alive, at his country-place near Haarlem, a
man as old as Van der Welcke's father; he spoke of those last dismal
years at Brussels, of how they had both longed for Dutch air and Dutch
people, especially for their own families. But he also said that,
however glad he might be to see his parents again, he thought that to
Constance this renewal of family-ties was often a disappointment. As he
talked, he felt himself the boy, the student, the young man of former
days, who also had talked much with his father, with his father alone,
even as Addie now talked with him. He spoke of his boy and admitted that
he worshipped him, that they both worshipped him. The old man, quietly
smoking his pipe, listened, taking a new interest in those younger
lives, the lives of his son and grandson. The old man felt as though he
were rediscovering something of his son, but he also felt him to be very
far away from him, without love or fear of God.

Van der Welcke spoke on.... And, almost unconsciously, in this
confession and avowal of his life and thoughts and feelings, he told how
Addie had quarrelled and fought with his cousin, told of the talk in
their circle and of the distress of his son. He told on, almost
unconsciously, of the wavering, the struggle, the helplessness of
Constance and himself when they saw their child pining with that
distress. And, almost unconsciously, Van der Welcke confessed, quite
simply, that he had spoken to his son as to a man and told his son the
truth about his parents' past.

The old man, quietly smoking, had heard him in silence, glad to listen
to his son's voice. What his son had told him to start with was strange
to him: thoughts, feelings, experiences of a very strange life,
differing wholly from his own. But what his son told him now made him
doubt whether he had heard aright:

"What do you say?" he asked, thinking that he must be hard of hearing.

Van der Welcke repeated what he had said.

"You told ... Adriaan ... your past?... Told him about Rome and De
Staffelaer?..."

"Yes, without entering into unnecessary details and with due respect for
his youth, I told him the truth, the whole truth. The boy was suffering
pain, was distressed because he did not know; and now he is suffering no
longer."

The old man shook his head, put down his pipe:

"I don't understand," he said. "Or else there's something wrong with my
hearing.