“Then you do really refuse to come back to your own place?”
“I shall not move.”
Philomena, the waitress, offered the platter. Father signed to her to offer it to grandfather, after which there was nothing for him but to take the seat of honour. It was a relief to us all; we all felt that the place belonged to him by right and that he alone deserved to occupy it. He and no one else had long been the head of the family. At the slightest difficulty or vexation every one turned to him, every one appealed to him. Now the disquietude which had weighed upon the house for so long a time would be ended. Now we should be directed. No more sluggard kings! The reins of government, as my history book expressed it, would be held in strong hands. And it was right that the head of the house should have all the insignia of authority. A king does not occupy the second place, and evidently my father would not have crowned himself of his own accord.
Thus the transferrence of power had taken place in our presence.
I should not have anticipated the change of feeling which took place within me, almost suddenly. Grandfather’s government had always seemed to me precarious and derisory. But as soon as he refused to exercise it I began to admire his disinterestedness and to discover the poetry of abdication. His sovereign disdain of material things appeared to me full of grandeur, and I even went so far as to interpret to myself the expression which had once seemed sacrilegious to me—“whether one lives in one house or another.” If he had done nothing to protect our house, perhaps it was because he cared for higher and more distant things. From his tower chamber he was entering into communication with the winds and the stars, predicting the future. The weather and the universe were absorbing him; he could no longer devote himself to common tasks. There was another mode of interpreting life, which I vaguely felt without understanding it, and which attracted me by its unusualness, and its enigma. The deposed king, clothed in the mystery which was conferred upon him by an unimaginable learning, was recovering his prestige and even assuming, all unaware to himself, a degree of ascendancy over my spirit.
I gazed by turns at father and grandfather: father in his normal place, thinking of each of us, diffusing peace and order about him; the light of his marvellous aptitude at command shining from his clear cut features and especially from his piercing eyes; grandfather, the delicate lines of his face, almost feminine notwithstanding his long white beard, his eyes always slightly clouded, often abstracted, indifferent to all around him, and more interested in the trees of the garden or the bit of sky that he saw through the window than in us. For the first time I was astonished to find such a difference between the two men. I had never observed it before, or had not thought about it. Now it struck me so strongly that I almost uttered my surprise aloud. It doubtless would have escaped me had I not felt the unseemliness of the fact. A son ought to resemble his father—there could be no doubt upon the subject. Or else it wasn’t worth while to be the son of some one. And whom was I like?
BOOK II
I
THE PICTURES
ALL these events, still so fresh in my imagination, grew dim and were temporarily lost in the current of the days which, during the long vacation upon which we were entering, began to flow by like a beautiful stream, full to the brim.
As a general thing our father took his vacation at the same time with us, and made the most of it for getting nearer to us. We saw him much less often this year, and became somewhat weaned from those stories of heroism with which he used to enliven our walks, kindling and stirring us up with fierce desire to fight battles and win victories. When we heard him tell them we used to toss our heads, our eyes would sparkle, we would walk faster, and our steps fell into cadence. But to meet the new expenses which he had assumed he had given up his annual rest. Once in a while he would snatch an afternoon, and make a hasty attempt to re-establish the old nearness to us. But his patients came to seek him at all hours of the day, or lay in wait for him as he passed along. Everything conspired to deprive us of him.