When he opened his eyes again his Uncle Gottfried was sitting at the foot of his bed. Jean-Christophe was worn out, and could remember nothing. Then his memory returned, and: he began to weep. Gottfried got up and kissed him.
"Well, my boy—well?" he said gently.
"Oh, uncle, uncle!" sobbed the boy, clinging to him.
"Cry, then …" said Gottfried. "Cry!"
He also was weeping.
When he was a little comforted Jean-Christophe dried his eyes and looked at
Gottfried. Gottfried understood that he wanted to ask something.
"No," he said, putting a finger to his lips, "you must not talk. It is good to cry, bad to talk."
The boy insisted.
"It is no good."
"Only one thing—only one!…"