"All right, then she can attend the teacher's college. I'll pay the tuition. Rudy, please. Give us a chance together. Please."

He turned his head to the window. The girl still had not moved from the bench. "Do you ever think about us?" he asked. "Do you ever think about how it was on those islands?"

She touched his wrist. "Sometimes."

"Because recently I've been thinking about it a good deal. I think about that little house in Toempoeng, and that other shack in the village. I also think about the night the baby died, and how things might have been different ..."

"Rudy, listen to me—"

"And do you remember when they had to kill all the dogs because of rabies. Seven hundred and thirty-nine dogs. Do you remember? Seven hundred and thirty-nine dogs shot in one day. And then you cried, because you thought they were also going to shoot that little terrier."

"Rudy, let her come and live with me, at least for a while."

His eyes were moist as he said, "It's too late, Margaretha. She's not your daughter anymore. She doesn't know you, and she doesn't love you."

"It's because of what you've told her about me, isn't it?"

He shook his head. "It's because of what the world has told her about you. Maybe you've finally made something of your life, maybe you're a great figure, a celebrated dancer. But you're not her mother any longer—"

"But that's only because I haven't had the chance to show her . . . Rudy, it's time she got to know me."

He shook his head. "No, the time for that is over. Now she merely wants to read about you, to tell her friends. Do you understand what I'm saying? You can't cry over those dead dogs, and you can't turn the clock backward. She has her own life, she doesn't need you anymore."

There was nothing left to say. Later, in the park, a mild breeze had risen, smelling of the sea. The promenade was all but deserted. Jeanne-Louise was still on the bench with her hands folded in her lap. She got up as her mother approached, but her arms stayed at her side.

"Darling?"

"Hello, mother."

"How are you?"

"Fine."

They walked for a while, Zelle trying a speech she had prepared, an apology for having stayed away so long. There was nothing, however, close to her dream of how it would be, not even a tearful embrace. The journey back was in an overcrowded railway carriage, with a number of women sitting together who might have been mothers and daughters.