"She did not have tuberculosis in 1939, when we were placed under the State's protection. And when I finally said yes, I would go to work for them, and they gave me the radar detector to work on, they promised me it was only a little congestion in her bronchiae and that as soon as she was well they would bring her home. And the war ended, and they did _not_ bring her home. I was given the Knight's Cross from Hitler's hands, personally, but they did _not_ bring her home. And the last time I went to the sanitarium to see her, she was _dead_. And they paid for it all, and gave me my laboratory here, and an apartment, and clothes, and food, and a very good housekeeper, but Marthe was _dead_." "Fifteen _years_, Jochim! Have you not forgiven us?" "No. For a little while today--just a little while ago--I thought I might. But--no." Tanzler puffed out his lips and fluttered them with an exhaled breath. "So," he said. "What are you going to do to us for it?" Professor Kempfer shook his head. "To you? What should I do to you? The men who arranged these things are all dead, or dying. If I had some means of hurting the Reich--and I do not--how could I revenge myself on these children?" He looked toward the passersby. "What am I to them, or they to me? No--no, I am going to do nothing to you." Tanzler raised his eyebrows and put his thick fingertips together. "If you are going to do nothing to us, then what are you going to do to yourself?" "I am going to go away." Already, Professor Kempfer was ashamed of his outburst. He felt he had controverted his essential character. A man of science, after all--a thinking, _reasoning_ man--could not let himself descend to emotional levels. Professor Kempfer was embarrassed to think that Tanzler might believe this sort of lapse was typical of him. "Who am I," he tried to explain, "to be judge and jury over a whole nation--an empire? Who is one man, to decide good and evil? I look at these youngsters, and I envy them with all my heart. To be young; to find all the world arranged in orderly fashion for one's special benefit; to have been placed on a surfboard, free to ride the crest of the wave forever, and never to have to swim at all! Who am I, Georg? Who am I? "But I do not like it here. So I am going away." Tanzler looked at him enigmatically. "To Carlsbad. For the radium waters. Very healthful. We'll go together." He began pawing Professor Kempfer's arm with great heartiness. "A splendid idea! I'll get the seats reserved on the morning train. We'll have a holiday, eh, Jochim?" "No!" He struggled to his feet, pulling Tanzler's hand away from his arm. "_No!_" He staggered when Tanzler gave way. He began to walk fast, faster than he had walked in years. He looked over his shoulder, and saw Tanzler lumbering after him. He began to run. He raised an arm. "Taxi! _Taxi!_" He lurched toward the curb, while the strolling young people looked at him wide-eyed. * * * * *