It seemed to him as though he were on one side, and all
the rest of the world on the other. His mother walked happily
beside him, with her bouquet in her hand. Rafael wore a new
overcoat--one after his own heart, very long and faced with silk,
and of which he was excessively proud. It was a clear winter's
day; the sun shone on the silk, and on something more as well.
"There is not a speck on the sky, mother," he said.
"Nor one on your coat either," she retorted; for there had been a
great many on his old one, and each had had its history.
He was too big now to be turned to ridicule, and too happy as
well. She heard him humming to himself: it was the Norwegian
national air. They came back to the town again as from Elysium.
All the passers-by looked at them: people quickly detect
happiness. Besides Rafael was a head taller than most of them and
fairer in complexion. He walked quickly along beside his elegant
mother, and looked across the Boulevard as though from a sunny
height.
"There are days on which one feels oneself a different person," he
said.
"There are days on which one receives so much," she answered,
pressing his arm.
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