Good-bye." And she went towards the door.
He threw his arms about her exclaiming: "What are you doing, mother; where are you going ?" "I do not know.

How should I know--There is nothing left for me to do, now that I am alone." She struggled to be released.

Holding her firmly, he could find only words to say again and again: "Mother, mother, mother!" And through all her efforts to free herself she was saying: "No, no.

I am not your mother now, poor boy--good-bye." It struck him clearly that if he let her go now he should never see her again; lifting her up in his arms he carried her to an arm-chair, forced her into it, and kneeling down in front of her barred her in with his arms.
"You shall not quit this spot, mother.

I love you and I will keep you! I will keep you always--I love you and you are mine." She murmured in a dejected tone: "No, my poor boy, it is impossible.