had not much
expression and was neither handsome nor ugly, neither fine nor
insignificant--it was still a smooth, immature boy's face without a
line on it--but now there was something in it, something doubting,
restless, which made it appear older, which drew furrows on his
forehead and lines round his mouth. Thoughts seemed to be whirling
round behind that lowered brow; the broad nostrils quivered slightly,
the trembling lips were pressed tightly together.

A deep silence reigned in the room. The mother did not utter a word,
nor did the son. The birds were twittering outside, even the faintest
chirp could be heard as well as the soft rustling of the spring wind in
the tops of the pines.

Kate rose slowly from her knees. She found difficulty in getting up,
all her limbs felt as if they were paralysed. She stretched out her
hand gropingly, caught hold of the nearest piece of furniture and
helped herself up.

"You can take it off again now," she said in a low voice.

He was already doing so, visibly glad at being able to throw off the
clothes he was so unused to.

She would have liked so much to say something to him, something
quite unimportant--only to speak, speak--but she felt so strangely
timid. It was as though he might say to her: "What have I to do with
you, woman?" And her fear kept her silent.

He had taken off his new suit now, and was standing before her
showing his broad chest, which the unbuttoned shirt had left exposed,
his strong legs, from which the stockings had slipped down, and all his
big-boned, only half-clothed robustness. She averted her glance--what a
big fellow he was already!--but then she looked at him again
almost immediately: why should a mother feel shy at looking at her
child? A mother?

Her eyes flickered. As she walked to the door she said, without
turning her head to him again: "I'm going down now. You'll be able to
finish without me, no doubt."

He mumbled something she could not understand. And then he stood a
long time, half dressed as he was, and stared into the glass, as though
the pupils of his eyes could not move.

The day of his confirmation drew near; it was to take place on Palm
Sunday. Dr. Baumann had laid the importance of the step they were about
to take very clearly before the boys' eyes. Now a certain feeling of
solemnity took the place of Wolfgang's former indifference. He was more
attentive during the last lessons; the empty bare room with the few
pictures o