"There is only one thing," my father continued, scratching his head in some embarrassment, "the fare will amount to at least four to five shillings, but I must try and get the money somehow."
"That is not necessary; I have got as much myself."
"Well, then there are no further difficulties, and if you will tell me when you want to go I will write immediately."
I should have liked best to go at once, but since I did not want to arrive there unexpectedly, I decided to stay at home for a week. During that week I suffered terribly. The violent scenes between my father and my brother drove me almost mad with anxiety and fear. I hailed the day of my departure with the greatest joy, and spent five quiet weeks with the very aged relations of my mother.
The pure, lovely air, together with the sunshine and the wonderful tranquillity all around, soon made me feel better, and I was able to walk again without pains in my knees. As soon as I felt better I asked myself: "What now?" The thought of remaining at home was unbearable to me, and yet I considered it to be my duty to stand by my parents in their troubles. I turned the question over and over again in my mind, but much as I thought and much as I reasoned, there was no way out. "I must stay at home," I said to myself, "to work for them, and the sooner I begin the better for us all."
With that resolution I returned to Vienna. The conditions of my parents were, of course, still the same, and I was very anxious to find work in order to contribute to our livelihood. After looking about for some time, I obtained a situation during the afternoons to look after a boy of nine years of age, whose mother had come over from America and intended to stay in Vienna until January.
But bravely as I worked, and much as I tried to feel happy and contented, I was far from being so. The common misery, and more than that the quarrels between my father and my brother which were ever sought for by the latter, affected me greatly, and my scarcely recovered health began to fail again. When I came home in the evening I used to sit down at the small window and stare out in the little courtyard, which was surrounded by a grey, massive wall, at the top of which, looking like a roof, hung a piece of sky.
It happened many times that I still sat there after the courtyard wall and sky had long become invisible, and a single lonesome gas-jet timidly streamed forth its cool, pale, trembling rays through the darkness.
But when I knew myself alone, I burst into tears—into those tears which, in spite of all their bitterness, soothe and relieve.
My mother often looked at me with sorrowful, troubled eyes, but the only answer I made to her silent questions was a woeful little smile.