“Can’t I make a joke when I am merry? And what are you doing so late?” He looked at the table. Under the shaded lamp lay account books and bills.
“I have learnt about accounts,” said Anne wearily, “so many bills have accumulated lately. The tradesmen worry me and I receive no money from the office. I cannot understand why Otto Füger delays things like this.” She stopped suddenly, thinking of something else. “Did you hear?” and she began to run towards the nursery.
Christopher dragged his steps behind her.
On the chest of drawers a night-lamp was burning. In the deep recess of the earthenware stove water was warming in a jug. Anne leaned over one of the beds and her voice sounded softly in the silence of the room:
“Here I am....”
Christopher’s heart was touched by these three short words, which meant so much. He too had, once upon a time, slept in the very same little bed, he too had waked with a start, had been afraid, but no mother’s voice came to say: “Here I am.” He had never known a light cool hand caressing for caresses’ sake, two warm womanly arms embracing chastely, nor the clear smile that has no design. He did not know her who understands all and forgives all, and who says when one is miserable: “Here I am!” Yet just that might have been enough to alter his life.
“They are lucky,” muttered Christopher as he went back to the sunshine room. Anne, before shutting the door behind her, put a piece of paper between the two wings. She never forgot that. The loose old doors had glass panes and rattled if a carriage passed down below in the street; this frightened little Ladislaus.
“This ought to be set right....”
Christopher sat in silence in the corner of the sofa with the many flowers. He paid no attention. Under his motionless eyelids he looked wearily all round the room. He noticed suddenly that Anne said nothing. Why did she not speak? She would help him if she said something, anything, words, ordinary matter-of-fact everyday words, which had a sound, which lived and caught hold of his mind, which held him back if only for a minute at the brink of the abyss which threatened him and filled him with horror.
“Anne, tell me a story.”