PART OI~E<br >Every [act is related on one side to sensation，<br >and， on the other， to morals. The game of thought<br >is， on the appearance o[ one o[ these two sides，<br >to find the other . . ."<br >There is in international relations a public<br >world and there is also an underworld. The<br >relationship between the public world and the<br >underworld--between the governments in office<br >and the spies， has never been codified."<br >CHAPTER 1<br >I was a terrible father to my son， at least until it was too late for<br >him to know otherwise. I always loved him--I nearly said "of course"<br >-but what is love? An erratic continuum in which any feeling can<br >exist， envy， pride， antipathy， passionate affection， hatred. Love isn t<br >a fixed relationship， only a kind of fund that underwrites all sorts of<br >behavior. And fathers differ as much as saints from killers; after the<br >biological half-second， the genetic transmission， everything depends，<br >just depends.<br > My son and I were not the same sort of person at all. He was shut<br >in， I m open; and this was true when he was four years old. Or six，<br >anyway， when his mother died， and I was forced to regard him<br >closely. Which brings up something else: I had to raise him by<br >myself. Even though there were nurses and maids around， this was<br >no easy job. In the twenties， psychologists began backing parents up<br >against the wall. You couldn t swat a child s behind without being<br >reminded that you were shaping generations: sons roving gutters with<br >knives in their fists， grandsons swiping brassieres off laundry lines.<br >Raising a child was quite a strain on a man， and for a freewheeler<br >like myself， it was sand in all my parts.<br >rl<br >)，<br >Y<br >d<br >d<br >©³©¥©×©¥©·<br >©§ ©§ ©§<br >©»©¥©ß©¥©¿<br ><br >