We won't
see a soul. We'll just walk and eat and sleep. And then you'll come
back to your work here another man."
"No, Martin. I can't yet. Not just now."
"Why not, father?"
"I have work, work that can't be left."
"But if you go on like this you'll be so that you can't go on any
longer. You'll break down. You know what the doctor said about your
heart. You aren't taking any care at all."
"Perhaps . . . perhaps . . . but for a week or two I must just go
on, preparing . . . many things . . . Martin."
He suddenly looked up at his son, putting his hand on his knee.
"Yes, father."
"You're being good now, aren't you?"
"Good, father?"
"Yes . . . Not doing anything you or I'd be ashamed of. I know in
the past . . . but that's been forgotten, that's over. Only now,
just now, it's terribly important for us both that you should be
good . . . like you used to be . . . when you were a boy."
"Father, what have people been saying to you about me?"
"Nothing--nothing. Only I think about you so much. I pray about you
all the time. Soon, as you say, we'll go away together . . . only
now, just now, I want you with me here, strong by my side.
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