But you see, Otto, heâs all Iâve got. Iâm living among ruins, and if I died today, no one but you and a few journalists would care. Iâm a poor man, but I still have this child, I still have this darling little boy whom I can live for and love, whom I suffer for and with whom in happy hours I can forget myself. You understand that, donât you? And you want me to give him up.â
âItâs not easy, Johann. Itâs a bad business. I canât see any other way. Look, youâve forgotten what the outside world is like. You sit here buried, engrossed in your work and your unhappy marriage. Take the step, break away from all that; youâll open your eyes and see that the world has thousands of wonderful things to offer you. Youâve been living with dead things too long, youâve lost your contact with life. Of course youâre attached to Pierre, heâs a delightful child; but thatâs not the main point. Be a little cruel for once and ask yourself whether he really needs you.â
âWhether he needs meâ¦?â
âYes. What you can give him is love, tenderness, feelingâthings that children in general need less of than we old people suppose. And on the other hand the child is growing up with a father and mother who are almost strangers to each other, who are actually jealous of each other on his account. He isnât being educated by the good example of a happy, healthy home, heâs precocious, and heâll grow up to be a misfit. âAnd one day, forgive me, he will have to choose between you and his mother after all. Donât you see that?â
âPerhaps youâre right. Youâre definitely right. But at that point I stop thinking. Iâm attached to the child, I cling to his love, because I havenât known any other warmth or light in a long time. Perhaps he will let me down in a few years, perhaps he will disappoint me or even hate me some dayâas Albert hates me; once when he was fourteen he threw his jackknife at me. But for a few years I can still be with him and love him, I can take his little hand in mine and listen to his little bright bird-like voiceâI still have that. Now tell me: must I give that away? Must I?â
Burkhardt shrugged his shoulders sadly and frowned. âYou must, Johann,â he said very softly. âI believe you must. It doesnât have to be today, but soon. You must throw away everything you have and wash yourself clean of the past; otherwise you will never again be able to face the world as a free happy man. Do what you can. If the step is too much for you, stay here and go on living this lifeâIâll still be your friend, youâll still have me, you know that. But I should regret it.â
âGive me some advice. I can see nothing but darkness before me.â
âIâll give you some advice. This is July; in the fall I shall be going back to India. Before I go, I shall come back here; by then I hope your bags will be packed and youâll be ready to go with me. If by then youâve made your decision and say yes, so much the better. But if you havenât made up your mind, come with me and get out of this air for a year, six months if you prefer. With me youâll be able to paint and ride horseback, youâll be able to hunt tigers too and fall in love with Malay womenâsome of them are prettyâin any case, youâll be away from here for a while, youâll have a chance to see if it isnât a better life. What do you think?â
Eyes closed, the painter rocked his large shaggy head with its pale face and indrawn lips.
âThank you,â he cried with half a smile. âThank you. Youâre very kind. In the fall Iâll tell you if Iâm coming. Please leave the photographs here.â
âYou can keep them. Butâcouldnât you make up your mind about the trip today or tomorrow? It would be better for