SEIZE THE DAY
389
to get yourself drafted and be an office boy in the Pacific theater. Any
clerk could have done what you did. You had nothing better to do
than become a G.!."
Wilhelm was going to reply, and half raised his bearish figure from
the chair, his fingers spread and whitened by their grip on the table,
but the old man would not let him begin. He said, "I see other elderly
people here with children who aren't much good, and they keep backing
them and holding them up at a great sacrifice. But I'm not going to
make that mistake.
It
doesn't enter your mind that when I die-a year,
two years from now-you'll still be here.
I
think of it."
He had intended to say that he had a right to be left in peace.
Instead he gave Wilhelm the impression that he meant it was not fair
for the better man of the two, and the more useful, the more admired,
to leave the: world first. Perhaps he meant that, too ... a little; hut he
would not under normal circumstances come out with it so fl atly.
"Father," said Wilhelm with an unusual openness of appeal,
"don't you think I know how you feel? I have pity. I want you to live
on and on.
If
you outlive me, that's perfectly okay by me ..." As his
father did not answer this avowal and turned away his glance, Wilhelm
suddenly burst out, "No, but you hate me. And if I had money you
wouldn't. By God, you have to admit it. The money makes the difference.
Then we would be a fine father and son.
If
I was a credit to you so
you could boast and brag abou t me all over the hotel. But I'm not the
right type of son. I'm too old, I'm too old and too unlucky."
His fath er said, "I can't give you any money. There wouldn't be
any end to it once I started . You and your sister would take every last
buck from me. I'm still alive, not dead. I am still here. Life isn't over
yet. I am
a:;
much alive as you or anyone. And I want nobody on my
back. I give you the same advice, Wilky. Carry nobody on your back."
"Just keep your money," said Wilhelm miserably. "Keep it and en–
joy it yourself. That's the ticket!"
IV
Ass! Idiot! Wild boar! Dumb mule! Slave! Lousy, wallowing
hippopotamus! Wilhelm called himself as his bending legs carried him
from the dining room. His pride! His inflamed feelings! His begging and
feebleness! And trading insults with his old father ... and spreadins con–
fusion over everything. Oh, how poor, contemptible and ridiculous he
was! When he remembered how he had said, with great reproof, "Father,
you ought to know your own son,"-why, how corny and abominable
it was.
He could not get out of the sharply brilliant dining room fast
enough. He was horribly worked up; his neck and shoulders, his entire
chest ached as though they had been tightly tied with ropes. He smelled
the salt odor of tears in his nose.
But at the same time, since there were depths in Wilhelm not un–
suspected by himself, he received a suggestion from some remote element
in his thoughts that the business of life, the real business-to carry the
