"I don't know, mamma. I am so tired sometimes...."
"Aren't you well?"
"Yes, I'm all right, but I am so tired...."
"But why, my child?"
He began to sob softly:
"Tired ... of everything ... mamma."
She looked at him for a long time, shook her head slowly, disapprovingly.
"Forgive me, mamma," he stammered, wiping his eyes. "I shan't give way like this again...."
"You promised me that once before, Othomar dear."
He leant his head against her once more, like a child: