The Emperor of Portugallia

The night before a child leaves, a father rehearses the loss.

Jan moved quietly away from the door, where he had been standing a moment, listening, and sat down on the step. He never thought for an instant that Glory Goldie would remain at home. Indeed he knew better than did anyone else that she must go away. All the same it was to him as if the soft little bundle had again been laid in his arms. His heart had been set going once more. Now it was beating away in his breast as if trying to make up for lost time. With that he felt that his armour of defence was gone.

The moment a man learns what a crowd's applause is worth.

This was followed by loud laughs from the crowd, Jan was so dumbfounded that all he could do was to stand still and look at the people. He glanced from one to another, unable to get over his amazement. Dear, dear! Was there no one among all those who had honoured and applauded him who would help him now, in his hour of need? The people stood there, unmoved. He saw then that he meant nothing to them and that they would not lift a finger for him. He became so frightened that all his imperial greatness fell from him, and he was like a little child that is ready to cry because its playthings have been taken away.

A father who has something to ask and no way to ask it.

During these visits the father and son immediately they had finished their coffee always went fishing. The old man usually kept very still on these occasions, so as not to scare the fish away, but this year was the exception. He spoke to the son time and again. His words came with difficulty, as always, still there seemed to be more life in him now than ordinarily. Evidently there was something special he wanted to say, or rather something he wished to draw from his son. He was like one who stands outside an empty house shouting and calling, in the hope that somebody will come and open the door to him.