"Not even from me?"
His tone was vehement, and he doubled up his great fist.
"Not even from me?" he asked the third time.
The boy drew back, and cried with a thrilling voice:—
"Father!"
Sonnenkamp's fist unclosed, and with forced composure he said:—
"I didn't mean to punish you, Roland—come here—nearer—nearer yet."
The boy went to him, and his father placed his hand upon his forehead, which, was hot, while the father's hand was cold.
"I love you more than you can understand," said the father. He bent down his head, but the boy stretched out both hands, crying with a voice full of anguish:—
"Ah, father! I beseech you—father, I beseech you, not to kiss me now."