"And I you." He nodded to her and pressed her hand. Yes, it really seemed to both of them as if they had been separated from each other for an eternity. He drew her still closer, held her as tightly as though she were a precious possession that had been half snatched away from him, and she clung to him, leant her head on his shoulder and smiled dreamily.
Innumerable golden atoms danced on a slender slanting sunbeam before her half-closed eyes. The even rattling of the carriages and the calm feeling of a great joy in her heart lulled her to sleep.
Suddenly she started up--was it a jolt, a shock? She had all at once got a fright, as it were: she had not asked anything about the child as yet!
"Wölfchen--what's Wölfchen doing?"
"Oh, he's all right. But now tell me, darling, how did you spend the whole day there? How was it divided? In the morning to the spring--first one glass, after that a second--and then? Well?"
She did not tell him. "Wölfchen is surely well?" she asked hastily. "There must be something wrong--you say so little about him. I've had such a misgiving the whole time. Oh dear, do tell me." Her voice sounded almost irritable--how could Paul be so indifferent. "What's the matter with Wölfchen?"
"The matter?" He looked at her in great surprise. "But why must there be something the matter with him? He's as strong as a horse."
"Really? But tell me, tell me something about him."
He smiled at her impatience. "What is there to tell about such a boy? He sleeps, eats, drinks, goes to school, comes home, runs out into the garden, sleeps, eats, drinks again and so on, vegetates like the plants in the sunshine. It's much better for you to tell me how you are."
"Oh, I--I--" that seemed so superfluous to her all at once--"I--quite well, you can see that." How indifferent he was with regard to the child. And she--his mother--had been able to forget him so long too? She felt so ashamed of herself that she hastily raised her head from her husband's shoulder and sat up straight. Now they were not lovers any longer, only parents who had to think about their child.