Part 45 (1/2)
But he could not go on. It was his first sorrow and it was so heavy, so oppressively heavy.
”Come, my lad, what's the matter?”
”Papa....”
”Tell me, come on, tell me.”
”Papa, am I not....”
”What, Addie?”
”Papa, am I not your child?”
Van der Welcke looked at him in astonishment:
”What's that?” he asked and did not understand.
”No, I'm not, am I? Yes, I know now!”
”Look here, Addie, what's the matter with you?”
”I'm not your child, am I?”
”You're not my child? What do you mean?”
”I'm the child of an Italian, am I not?”
”Of an Italian?”
”And that's why they call me the Italian?”
Van der Welcke, in his amazement, did not know what to say. He stared at Addie; and his silence meant confession to Addie.
”I am Mamma's child, am I not, but not yours? I am the child of an Italian....”
”My boy, who told you that?”
”Jaap.”
”But, Addie, it's not true!”
”Oh, you only say that it's not true, but it is true....”
But now Van der Welcke, after his first amazement, suddenly realized the boy's distress and caught him in his arms and took him on his knees, there, in the big chair:
”Addie, Addie, I swear to you, it's not true! My child, it's not true, you are my child, you are my boy, you are mine, you are mine, mine, mine!”
”Is it really true?”
”You're mine, you're mine, Addie! They lie, they lie! Good Lord! My boy, would I love you so madly, if you were not my boy?”