Now pears fall within his mother"s province and I am sure that he has had as many as he is ent.i.tled to. And so we are at once agreed that what he wants is a wholly irrelevant, uncalled-for, delightful extra pear.
Unfortunately, it also appears that the request has already been laid before Mamma and met with a positive refusal.
The situation is serious, but not hopeless. For I am a man who knows how mean is the supply of pears to us poor wretched children of men and how wonderful an extra pear tastes.
And I am glad that my little boy did not give up all hope of the pear at the first obstacle. I can see by the longing in his green eyes how big the pear is and I reflect with lawful paternal pride that he will win his girl and his position in life when their time comes.
We now discuss the matter carefully.
First comes the prospect of stomach-ache:
"Never mind about that," says he.
I quite agree with his view.
Then perhaps Mother will be angry.
No, Mother is never angry. She is sorry; and that is not nice. But then we must see and make it up to her in another way.
So we slink in and steal the pear.
I put it to him whether, perhaps--when we have eaten the pear--we ought to tell Mother. But that does not appeal to him:
"Then I shan"t get one this evening," he says.
And when I suggest that, possibly, Mother might be impressed with such audacious candour, he shakes his head decisively:
"You don"t know Mother," he says.
So I, of course, have nothing to say.
Shortly after this, the mother of my little boy and I are standing at the window laughing at the story.
We catch sight of him below, in the courtyard.
He is sitting on the steps with his arm round little Dirty"s neck. They have shared the pear. Now they are both singing, marvellously out of tune and with a disgustingly sentimental expression on their faces, a song which Dirty knows:
For riches are only a lo-oan from Heaven And poverty is a reward.
And we are overcome with a great sense of desolation.
We want to make life green and pleasant for our little boy, to make his eyes open wide to see it, his hands strong to grasp it. But we feel powerless in the face of all the contentment and patience and resignation that are preached from cellar to garret, in church and in school: all those second-rate virtues, which may lighten an old man"s last few steps as he stumbles on towards the grave, but which are only so many shabby lies for the young.
XI
Dirty is paying us a visit and my little boy is sitting at her feet.
She has buried her fingers in her hair and is reading, reading reading. . . .
She is learning the Ten Commandments by heart. She stammers and repeats herself, with eyes fixed in her head and a despairing mouth:
"Thou shalt . . . Thou shalt not . . . Thou shalt . . ."
The boy watches her with tender compa.s.sion.
He has already learnt a couple of the commandments by listening to her and helps her, now and then, with a word. Then he comes to me and asks, anxiously:
"Father, must Dirty do all that the Ten Commandments say?"
"Yes."
He sits down by her again. His heart is overflowing with pity, his eyes are moist. She does not look at him, but plods on bravely:
"Thou shalt . . . Thou shalt not . . ."
"Father, when I grow big, must I also do all that the Ten Commandments say?"
"Ye-es."
He looks at me in utter despair. Then he goes back to Dirty and listens, but now he keeps his thoughts to himself.
Suddenly, something seems to flash across his mind.
He comes to me again, puts his arms on my knee and looks with his green eyes firmly into mine:
"Father, do you do all that the Ten Commandments say?"
"Ye-e-es."
He looks like a person whose last hope has escaped him. I would so much like to help him; but what, in Heaven"s name, can I do?
Then he collects himself, shakes his head a little and says, with great tears in his eyes:
"Father, I don"t believe that I can do all those things that the Ten Commandments say."
And I draw him to me and we cry together because life is so difficult, while Dirty plods away like a good girl.
XII
This we all know, that sin came into the world by the law.