“So I didn’t get it completely wrong.”
“Wrong in what way?”
“I think there’s one more birthday greeting to come. But that one is set to
music.”
“I’d better read a little more before I go to sleep.”
“You haven’t given up, then?”
“I’ve learned more in this one day than ever before. I can hardly believe that it’s
less than twenty-four hours since Sophie got home from school and found the first
envelope.”
“It’s strange how little time it takes to read.”
“But I can’t help feeling sorry for her.”
“For Mom?”
“No, for Sophie, of course.”
“Why?”
“The poor girl is totally confused.”
“But she’s only ...”
“You were going to say she’s only made up.”
“Yes, something like that.”
“I think Sophie and Alberto really exist.”
“We’ll talk more about it when I get home.”
“Okay.”
“Have a nice day.”
“What?”
“I mean good night.”
“Good night.”
When Hilde went to bed half an hour later it was still so light that she could see
the garden and the little bay. It never got really dark at this time of the year.
She played with the idea that she was inside a picture hanging on the wall of the
little cabin in the woods. She wondered if one could look out of the picture into what
surrounded it.
Before she fell asleep, she read a few more pages in the big ring binder.
Sophie put the letter from Hilde’s father back on the mantel.
“What he says about the UN is not unimportant,” said Alberto, “but I
don’t like him interfering in my presentation.”
“I don’t think you should worry too much about that.”
“Nevertheless, from now on I intend to ignore all extraordinary
phenomena such as sea serpents and the like. Let’s sit here by the window
while I tell you about Kant.”
Sophie noticed a pair of glasses lying on a small table between two
armchairs. She also noticed that the lenses were red.
Maybe they were strong sunglasses . . .
“It’s almost two o’clock,” she said. “I have to be home before five. Mom
has probably made plans for my birthday.”
“That gives us three hours.”
“Let’s start.”
“Immanuel Kant was born in 1724 in the East Prussian town of
Konigsberg, the son of a master saddler. He lived there practically all his life
until he died at the age of eighty. His family was deeply pious, and his own
religious conviction formed a significant background to his philosophy. Like
Berkeley, he felt it was essential to preserve the foundations of Christian