"What I have told you . . . is a disappointment."
"A disappointment? . . . Is it a disappointment? I don't think so now, dear. . . . Not after the first shock of hearing it. It's not a disappointment any longer. If there is clearly something inside you which tells you what your vocation is . . . oh, why shouldn't you follow it? So few of us feel clearly about anything. . . . Let's sit here, on the sand, under the trees. . . . So few people feel things clearly. Everything was vague with me . . . until quite late in life, dear. We all cling to small things, to small interests . . . both in our own case and in the case of the small people around us. . . . Do you still remember . . . that friend of ours . . . whom Mamma liked so much? Things weren't clear to him. . . . Darling, if they're clear to you, already, and if you are almost certain that you are not mistaken . . . then obey your vocation. No one has the right to hold you back; and why should I hold you back . . . for small reasons, while much greater things perhaps are urging you on? For small reasons . . . for a touch of vanity, perhaps . . . Ah, you see, darling, I am small. I should have loved to see you, you my own boy, in the diplomatic service. Papa would have been satisfied; and you would perhaps have given me back something of the past. . . . Do you understand? It would not be honest of me if I did
