Helena—Things which have known only one state, do not interest me.
Storm—Helena!
Helena—Gheid Storm.
Storm—I have a son; I don’t know why I should tell you about him, perhaps because I want to prove that I have lived, and perhaps not. My son is a child, I am a man of few years and my son is like what I was at his age. He is thin, I was thin; he is quiet, I was quiet; he has delicate flesh, and I had also—well, then his mother died——
Helena—The saddle comes down from the horse.
Storm—Well, she died——
Helena—And that’s over.
Storm—Well, there it is, I have a son——
Helena—And that’s not over. Do you resent that?
Storm—I don’t know, perhaps. Sometimes I say to myself when I’m sitting by the fire alone—“You should have something to think of while sitting here——”