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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Landolin, by Berthold Auerbach
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Landolin
+
+Author: Berthold Auerbach
+
+Translator: Annie B. Irish
+
+Release Date: June 28, 2010 [EBook #33008]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LANDOLIN ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by the Web Archive
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note:
+1. Page scan source:
+http://books.google.com/books?id=7DYoAAAAYAAJ&pg=PP1&dq=Landolin&output
+=text
+
+
+
+                       STANDARD LITERATURE OF THE
+                           EASTERN QUESTION.
+
+McCOAN'S EGYPT. Egypt As It Is. By J. C. McCoan. With a Map, taken from
+the most recent survey. 8vo. $3.75.
+
+"Very competent, honest and impartial, and does not praise merely for
+the sake of praising.... A reader will find in it all about Egypt that
+he can reasonably wish to know."--_London Saturday Review_.
+
+
+                        UNIFORM WITH THE ABOVE.
+
+"TWO OF THE FOREMOST BOOKS OF THE YEAR IN VALUE AND INTEREST."--_N. Y.
+Evening Post_.
+
+WALLACE'S RUSSIA. With two colored Maps. 8vo. $4.00.
+
+"One of the stoutest and most honest pieces of work produced in our
+time, and the man who has produced it ... even if he never does
+anything more, will not have lived in vain."--_Fortnightly Review_.
+
+"Excellent and interesting ... worthy of the highest praise ... not a
+piece of clever book making, but the result of a large amount of
+serious study and thorough research.... We commend his book as a very
+valuable account of a very interesting people."--_Nation_.
+
+... "The book is excellent from first to last, whether we regard its
+livelier or its more serious portions."--_London Athenaeum_.
+
+"It is very seldom that so readable a book as Mr. Wallace's _Russia_
+contains so much solid information."--_London Academy_.
+
+"The solid and most valuable chapters ... outfit to be read and re-read
+by all who wish to become really and thoroughly acquainted with Russian
+institutions. It is impossible to praise them too highly."--_London
+Times_.
+
+BAKER'S TURKEY. With two colored Maps. 8vo. $4.00.
+
+"His book is indispensable to a just and impartial decision on the
+character of the conflict now pending between the two European powers.
+It should be read and even studied in connection with the statements in
+the daily prints."--_N. Y. Tribune_.
+
+"Cannot but be regarded as a very useful addition to the literature of
+the 'Eastern Question.' ... He is enough of a politician and farmer to
+take a keen interest in the social and administrative economy of the
+country, and to be able to offer, as he does in this book, a very clear
+and careful account of both."--_N. Y. Nation_.
+
+"His work, like Mr. Wallace's, is in many parts a revelation, as it has
+had no predecessor, which was so founded upon personal observation, and
+at the same time so full of that sort of detailed information about the
+habits, the customs, the character and the life of the people who form
+its subject, which constitutes the best possible explanation of history
+and of current events.... Invaluable to the student, profound or
+superficial, of Turkish affairs."--_N. Y. Evening Post_.
+
+"Of all that he speaks of from personal knowledge, he is a trustworthy
+witness--calm, shrewd, impartial. Of all that he speaks of from
+historical and other printed documents, he is a trustworthy
+compiler--intelligent, concise and rapid."--_London Saturday Review_.
+
+CREASY'S HISTORY OF THE OTTOMAN TURKS: From the Beginning of their
+Empire to the Present Time. By Sir Edward R. Creasy, M.A., author of
+"The Fifteen Decisive Battles of the World." "Rise and Progress of the
+English Constitution," etc. Large 12mo. $2.50.
+
+GAUTIER'S RUSSIA. 12mo. _Reduced to_ $1.75.
+
+"The book is a charming one, and nothing approaching it in merit has
+been written on the outward face of things in Russia.... He sees
+pictures where most people find mere dead surfaces, and where common
+eyes find the tint of a picture, he constructs a complete work of
+art."--_Nation_.
+
+GAUTIER'S CONSTANTINOPLE. 12mo. _Reduced to_ $1.75.
+
+"It is never too late in the day to reproduce the sparkling description
+and acute reflections of so brilliant a master of style as the present
+author."--_N. Y. Tribune_.
+
+
+        _HENRY HOLT & CO., Publishers, 25 Bond St., N. Y._
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                           BY THE SAME AUTHOR
+
+                        (_Leisure-Hour Series_)
+
+                  ON THE HEIGHTS. 2 vols.
+                  THE VILLA ON THE RHINE. 2 vols.
+                  BLACK FOREST VILLAGE STORIES.
+                  LITTLE BAREFOOT.
+                  JOSEPH IN THE SNOW.
+                  EDELWEISS.
+                  GERMAN TALES.
+                  WALDFRIED.
+                  THE CONVICTS AND THEIR CHILDREN.
+                  LORLEY AND REINHARD.
+                  ALOYS.
+                  POET AND MERCHANT.
+                  LANDOLIN.
+
+
+
+
+
+                      LEISURE HOUR SERIES. No. 44.
+
+                           *   *   *   *   *
+
+                                LANDOLIN
+
+
+                                   BY
+                           BERTHOLD AUERBACH
+ _Author of "On the Heights," "Waldfried," "Villa on the Rhine," etc._
+
+
+                             TRANSLATED BY
+                             ANNIE B. IRISH
+
+
+
+
+                               NEW YORK:
+                         HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
+                                  1878
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                               Copyright
+                                  1878
+                             By HENRY HOLT.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                               LANDOLIN.
+
+                           *   *   *   *   *
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER I.
+
+
+The spring has come again to the hills and valleys of our home. The day
+awakes, a breeze moves strongly through the forest, as if its task were
+to carry away the lingering night; the birds begin to twitter, and here
+and there an early lark utters his note. Among the pine-trees, with
+their fresh green needles, a whispering and rustling is heard. The sun
+has risen above the mountaintop, and shines upon the valley; the fields
+and meadows are glittering with dew. From the cherry-trees comes a
+stream of fragrance, and the hawthorn hedges that blossomed in the
+night are rejoicing in the first sunbeams, which penetrate to the very
+heart of each floweret.
+
+Down in the valley, where the logmen's rafts are floating rapidly--down
+by the saw-mill, where the water dashes over the wheel, and the saw
+sounds shrill--a young man with white forehead and sunburnt cheeks
+opens a window, looks out, and nods gayly, as if greeting the awakening
+day. Presently he appears on the doorstep; he opens his arms wide, as
+if to embrace something; he smiles, as though looking at a happy, loved
+face. Taking his soldier's cap from his head, and holding it in his
+hand, he leaves the house; his step is firm, his bearing erect, and
+sincere honesty and candor look from his eyes. He goes through the
+meadows toward the forest-crowned hill, not stopping till he reaches
+its summit. Pausing there, he looks far into the distance, where a
+column of smoke ascends to the cloudless sky.
+
+"Good morning, Thoma! Are you still sleeping? Awake! our own day is
+here!" he said in a deep, manly voice.
+
+And now he joyously bounded down the hill, but soon moderated his step,
+and sang a yodel until the birds joined with him, and the echo repeated
+the song. Before long he reached the house; by the door stood his
+father, scattering bread crumbs to the chickens.
+
+"Good morning, father!" cried the young man. The father, a tall, thin
+man, looked up with surprise, and answered:
+
+"What, up already, Anton? Where have you been?"
+
+"I? where? Everywhere. In heaven, and in this beautiful world below. O
+father! it has often seemed to me that I should not live to see this
+day; that I should die before it came, or that something else would
+happen. But now the day is here. And such a day!"
+
+The old man drew the palm of his hand twice, three times, over his
+mouth; for he would have liked to say: "Your mother was just so, so
+faint-hearted, and again so confident;" but he kept back the words; he
+would not mar his son's happiness; and at last he said:
+
+"Yes, yes, so it is; that's what it is to be young. Tell me, Anton,
+were you so uneasy in the war, and so----?"
+
+"No, father, that was quite another thing. Father, I'm afraid you are
+not entirely satisfied with Thoma."
+
+"It's true, I'm not in love with her, as you are."
+
+"No, but that's not all."
+
+"There's nothing else, but for me she is almost too----"
+
+"Too rich, you mean."
+
+"I didn't mean that. No girl is too rich for an honest lad. I only
+meant she is too beautiful. Yes, laugh if you choose; but a wife as
+beautiful as she, is a troublesome possession. I think, however, it
+will come out all right; she certainly seems more like her mother than
+like Landolin. To be sure, she has some of his pride, but I hope not
+his ungovernable temper. In old stories we read of wicked giants;
+Landolin might have been one of them. It's well that we live in other
+times."
+
+"But, father, you make too much of this; my Thoma----"
+
+"Yes, yes, she has her mother's good disposition. I have been thinking
+it over, and I believe that, all told, I have been fifteen times at
+Rotterdam. There are no such violent men as Landolin in Holland."
+
+"Father, perhaps it's because they have no mountain streams in Holland,
+only quiet canals."
+
+"Well, well! Is there anything that the young people nowadays do not
+know all about? However, I did not mean to say anything bad of Thoma."
+
+"That you can never do, father. There is one thing about her that will
+please you especially; an untruth has never escaped her lips, and never
+will."
+
+"The world doesn't set much store by that now, but it's a great thing,
+after all. But enough of this. You are a man that can be master. I have
+only said this that your mind might be prepared. Enough now. It is a
+glorious day, thank God!"
+
+"Yes, glorious indeed," replied Anton; but he did not mean the weather,
+for to-day was to take place, at the spring fair in the city, the
+betrothal of the miller's son, Anton, with Thoma (Thomasia), the
+daughter of the farmer and former bailiff, Landolin of Reutershoefen.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER II.
+
+
+High up on the plateau lie Landolin's broad acres. The buildings stand
+by themselves, for the farm-houses of the borough are scattered miles
+apart over the hill-sides. Only the dwelling-house, with its shingled
+roof, faces the road; its various outbuildings lie back of it, around
+an open square, and the pastures and fields extend up the steep
+hill-side to the beech wood, whose brown buds are glistening with the
+morning dew.
+
+It is still early in the morning; no sound is heard in the farm-yard,
+save the noisy splashing of the broad rivulet from the spring. A roof
+extends far over the water, for in the winter the cattle are brought
+there to drink. Near by are heaps of paving stones, with which a new
+drain is to be built through the yard.
+
+Gradually the larks began their songs high in the air; the sparrows on
+the roof twittered; the cows lowed; the horses rattled their halters;
+the doves began cooing; the chickens on their roost and the pigs in
+their pens all awoke and gave signs of comfort or discomfort. The huge
+watch-dog, whose head lay on the threshold of his kennel, lazily opened
+his eyes now and then, and closed them again as though he would say,
+"What strange sounds; what do they all amount to, compared with a
+hearty bark! That's, after all, the most beautiful and sensible noise
+in the world, for dogs of my rank never bark without good reason."
+
+The first person who came through the yard was the farmer's stately
+wife, well dressed, and still in her prime. It is a well-ordered
+household where the master or mistress is the first awake.
+
+The farmer's wife was a quiet woman, such a one as is called a "genuine
+farmer's wife;" not much more than this could be said of her. She was
+industrious, and watchful of her interests, and kept others under
+strict control. She held her husband in all fitting honor, as a wife
+should, but there was never any thought of love, either in her youth or
+now. She was the daughter of a farmer in a neighboring borough, and had
+married in the same rank, for she had never dreamed of the possibility
+of doing otherwise. During the time that Landolin was bailiff she had
+worthily done the honors of the house; she had unbounded confidence in
+her husband, and when people came with complaints to her, her usual
+answer was: "Just be patient, my husband will make everything right."
+She was entirely frank, what she said she meant; but she spoke little,
+for much speaking was not befitting a farmer's wife; and as for much
+thinking--for that there was no need. A wife must keep the house in
+order, economize, and be strictly honest, as the custom is--to think is
+quite unnecessary.
+
+The head-servant, Tobias, came from the stable-door. The two nodded to
+one another without a word, and yet each had a deep respect for the
+other; for, in his place, the head-servant was equally responsible for
+the honor of the household; therefore he ranked next after the farmer,
+and before the only son, who, in this family, was indeed too young to
+be much thought of.
+
+Tobias had already endured fifteen years in this house, for living here
+meant endurance, and during all this time he had never called upon the
+farmer's wife for aid against the violence of the master; in his heart
+he respected the mistress who never wanted anything for herself, but
+who seemed to think herself in the world only that she might be
+obedient to her husband. When the farmer drove through the country to
+the different gala-day festivals with his beautiful, proud daughter,
+his wife thought it only right and a matter of course that she should
+be left behind, and she had no longing for the world outside. She had
+grown up in a secluded farm-house, where the principal pleasure lay in
+being able, while the sun shone on Sunday--to sleep in the afternoon.
+
+"Mistress," began the head-servant, Tobias, "Mistress, may I ask you a
+question?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"Is it true that your daughter----?"
+
+"Will be betrothed to-day."
+
+"Praise be to God and thanks!" cried the head-servant; "God forgive me,
+I was afraid the master would not give her to anybody, that he would
+think nobody good enough for her! Anton Armbruster is a fine, honest
+fellow, and in the war he showed himself a brave man; he will be the
+husband to----"
+
+The farmer's wife interrupted this speech, lest something unpleasant
+about Thoma might be added, and said, "The betrothal is not to be here
+at home, it will take place in the city to-day, at the Sword Inn. I am
+to go too," she concluded, pleased that so great an honor should be
+done her. She walked more quickly than usual to the house, awakened the
+maids, and then mounted the stairs to the large guest chamber. There
+stood two high bedsteads, but they held bed-clothing enough for six,
+for from this house neither feathers nor linen were ever sold. It was
+easy enough to see that when the mistress opened the double doors of
+the great, gayly-painted wardrobe. She feasted her eyes on the masses
+of linen heaped up there; of which that in the left side of the
+wardrobe, tied with blue ribbon, was the outfit long ago prepared for
+Thoma. The mother laid her hand on it as if in blessing, and her lips
+moved.
+
+But now she heard footsteps in the living-room, and went down stairs
+again.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER III.
+
+
+There,  where the bright morning light streamed through many windows,
+and the ever-heated porcelain stove spread a pleasant warmth, the
+farmer was walking up and down. He was a broad, stately man; his thick
+hair was cut short, and the stubble stood upright, which gave his
+immense head a certain bull-dog look. From his smoothly-shaven face
+looked forth self-esteem, obstinacy, and contempt of the world. He was
+still in his shirt sleeves, but otherwise arrayed in holiday attire;
+the single-breasted, collarless, velvet coat alone hung on the nail; he
+wore high boots, whose tops fell down in folds, showing the white
+stockings below the knee-breeches; and also a gay silk vest, buttoned
+close to his throat.
+
+As his wife entered he nodded silently. Following her came their son
+Peter, a discontented-looking, full-faced young fellow, and then the
+servant-men and maids. After grace was said, they sat down to
+breakfast. There was no conversation; no one even spoke of the chair
+that remained vacant, that of Thoma. Not until the after-grace had been
+said, did the peasant speak to Tobias, telling him to take the fat oxen
+to the fair.
+
+He then sat down in the great arm-chair, not far from the stove, and
+looked toward the door. Thoma may be permitted to make an exception
+to-day. Usually she takes great pride in allowing no one to be before
+her at work, early or late.
+
+Suddenly he arose, and stepping to the porch that led to the yard,
+called to Tobias to take the prize cow also to the fair. "Father,"
+called a strong girlish voice from the chamber window over the door,
+"Father, do you mean to sell the prize cow too?"
+
+Landolin half-turned his head, and looked toward the window, but seemed
+to think a reply unnecessary.
+
+He called to the servant not to forget to stop at the "Sword."
+
+The oxen were led out. They moved as though half asleep, then stopped
+and looked around, as if bidding farewell to the farm-yard. A splendid
+cow followed--she was of Simmenthaler stock, but raised here on the
+farm. The cow's eyes glistened as though she were conscious that she
+had taken the first prize at the last agricultural fair.
+
+Landolin went down the broad stone steps into the yard, and stood
+balancing himself first on one foot, then on the other, surveying with
+great satisfaction the animals and the comfortable appointments of his
+house.
+
+"Good morning, father!" called the same strong, girlish voice from the
+veranda. "I could not sleep till near morning. Father, are you really
+intending to sell the prize cow?"
+
+"You do not know as much as I thought," answered Landolin laughing; "do
+you think nothing goes to the fair except to be sold? A man sometimes
+likes to show what he owns."
+
+"You're right," answered the girl, shaking back her long, flowing
+yellow hair, "you're right."
+
+And the miller was right too. The girl was almost too beautiful. She
+now seated herself upon the door-step, and began braiding her hair, and
+singing softly to herself; but she often stopped, and gazed dreamily
+into the far distance with her great blue eyes. She was thinking of
+Anton, down by the mill in the valley.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+Arrayed in the velvet coat, on his head his broad hat adorned with a
+large silver buckle, and in his hand a stout stick, Landolin came
+through the door-way and said:
+
+"Thoma, I'm going now; I want you and your mother to follow soon."
+
+He started on, but waited a while at the gate, for the common people
+there, who greeted him obsequiously, to pass by; he could not accompany
+those who were driving to the fair only a poor little cow or a goat, or
+perhaps going empty-handed to make some small purchases. The Galloping
+Cooper greeted him as he hastened by. He was a gaunt man, by trade a
+cooper, and received this name because he was always in a hurry. The
+gamekeeper saluted by touching his hand to his cap. Landolin responded
+graciously, for he had appointed the man to his present position when
+he was bailiff. Cushion Kate, an old woman with sunburnt face and a red
+kerchief tied round her head, who carried a number of gay-colored head
+cushions, passed by without greeting; she was angry with Landolin, and
+had no other way of expressing it. Not until a wealthy farmer like
+himself came up and cried: "Come along, Landolin," did Landolin
+condescend to nod, and join his equal.
+
+Our story lies in that part of the country where great farms are still
+found in the hands of peasants; these descend by inheritance from one
+generation to another; and with them certain lines of social
+demarcation which exclude from the farmer's circle those who are styled
+the "common people;" even at the inn an unwritten law prescribes that
+the farmers should sit at a separate table from the laborers and
+mechanics.
+
+The village consists of thirty-two farm-houses, that lie scattered
+amidst their broad fields, and of a few small houses collected about
+the church, the school-house, and the inn.
+
+"Where are your women folks?" said Landolin's companion, after they had
+walked silently side by side a good distance.
+
+"They are coming after us; they are riding," answered Landolin.
+
+The first speaker had indeed heard that something more important than
+the sale of cattle was to take place at the fair in the city to-day;
+but, as a discreet and self-controlled farmer, who allowed no one to
+meddle in his affairs or to trouble him with impertinent questions, he
+said no more.
+
+The two walked a long distance, silent and supercilious, for each felt
+that here were walking two men who together represented three hundred
+acres of field and meadow, and nearly as many more of forest-land. At
+length the neighbor, who was the younger, and besides was Burgomaster,
+asked,
+
+"Have you any old hay left?"
+
+"No; sold it all."
+
+"At a good price?"
+
+"Yes. You too?"
+
+"Of course."
+
+They spoke to each other as unconcernedly as though neither had ever
+thought of increasing his acres; but for all that the enchanted
+dragon--Speculation--had flown over this peaceful valley, leaving dire
+destruction in his track. Each of these men had lost large sums of
+money by a recent bank failure, and in American railroad stocks; but
+neither was willing to ask the other's sympathy, or even to acknowledge
+his own loss; and each thought, "I can bear it better than he."
+
+One said to himself, "I am younger than he is," and the other, "I am
+older than he;" one, "How could the young man be so rash?" and the
+other, "How could the old man have shown so little experience?" On only
+one point did their thoughts agree; both intended to resist temptation
+for the future, and to be contented with the slow and sure profits of
+their fields.
+
+"We are a little late," the younger farmer at last said.
+
+"Oh," replied Landolin, standing still (he always stood still when he
+spoke), "what I have to buy will wait for me. I only sent my cattle
+that the fair might amount to something, as I hear that a great many
+Alsace traders are coming."
+
+The other glanced sideways at Landolin, as though he would have enjoyed
+saying, "I know you wish the miller and his son to be there first, and
+be waiting for you; but I'll not give you the satisfaction of knowing
+that I understand your meanness."
+
+Landolin's wagon with the two great horses now overtook them. In it
+were seated mother and daughter, in holiday attire. Landolin's
+companion bowed quickly many times, and murmured, as he glanced at
+Thoma, "It is certainly true; she is the most beautiful girl in the
+country." Thoma asked if the men did not wish to ride, for there was a
+second seat in the "Schaarenbank," as they here call the _Char-a-banc_,
+which has now taken the place of the old-fashioned coach. The men
+declined, and the wagon rolled on.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER V.
+
+
+Mountain and valley must join each other after all. Down by the brook
+Anton was walking with his father, and from the hill-side Thoma was
+coming with hers. A few weeks only had passed since Anton and Thoma
+gave themselves to each other; but when once the verdure of the
+spring-time appears, its spread is strong and unceasing.
+
+It came about thus: the snow was lying heavy on the mountains and in
+the ravines, on the fields it had begun to melt, when three young men
+in soldiers' caps had come one Sunday to Landolin's gate. They greeted
+as a comrade the servant Fidelis, who was currying the horses, and also
+wore a soldier's cap.
+
+"What!" said Fidelis, "do you dare to invite the master's daughter?"
+
+"Yes, of course."
+
+"I don't believe that she'll consent, or rather that her father will,
+but he won't mind having the honor offered him."
+
+"Come with us, Fidelis," said Anton, "you are one of us."
+
+The other two young men, who were sons of rich farmers like Landolin,
+looked astonished, but said nothing.
+
+"As you will," answered Fidelis; "just wait till I put my Sunday coat
+on."
+
+He accompanied the three to the house, but stopped on the threshold,
+and allowed the farmers' sons to approach his master alone. After
+welcoming them, Landolin seated himself quickly and asked:
+
+"What can I do for you?"
+
+The son of the farmer, Titus, called the Mountain-king, who lived on
+the other side of the plateau, a tall fellow with broad shoulders and a
+boyish face, answered glibly, as though reciting a carefully committed
+lesson, that they had come most humbly to invite the maiden Thoma to be
+Maid of Honor at the presentation of the flag to the Club.
+
+"Who are to be the other maids of honor?" asked Landolin.
+
+"My sister and the daughter of the District Forester."
+
+Landolin nodded, and then asked on what day the festival was to take
+place. Anton, who had not before spoken, answered that the fifteenth of
+July had been chosen, as it was the anniversary of the declaration of
+war, and fortunately happened to fall on Sunday. He added adroitly,
+"that they desired to change the day of terror into one of gladness."
+
+Landolin looked up, astonished at Anton's temerity in addressing him;
+then fixed his eye on the mountain prince, who, instead of replying
+himself, had permitted the miller's son to speak.
+
+"You make arrangements far in advance; it's a long time from now to the
+middle of July; but never mind. We thank you for the honor, but we
+cannot join you," said Landolin, with decision.
+
+"All right, we need go only one house farther," quickly answered the
+mountain prince, his face reddening. He was about turning away, when
+Anton interrupted:
+
+"Pardon me; but if I have rightly understood the ex-bailiff, he is
+going to leave the decision to his daughter."
+
+The farmer compressed his lips craftily, then said:
+
+"Yes, yes; you are right. And mind you, I shall not say a word to her,
+and you shall find that she will give you the same answer that I gave."
+
+"May I ask why?" inquired the mountain prince.
+
+"You may ask," answered the peasant, going to the door and calling to
+Thoma to bring wine and something to eat. It seemed as if Thoma had
+already prepared this, for she came immediately, the young men
+following her movements with admiring eyes. She poured the wine, they
+touched their glasses, and Anton had begun to repeat his request, when
+she interrupted him:
+
+"Say no more!"
+
+Anton turned pale, and Thoma blushed; their eyes met, and Thoma's
+eyelids dropped. In a moment, however, she looked up frankly, and
+continued:
+
+"I have heard all that has been said."
+
+"Bravo! that's splendid!" cried Anton; "pardon me, but I imagine there
+are few who would so honestly confess that they had been listening."
+
+"I thank you for your praise, but it is nothing--that is, I mean being
+honest deserves no praise."
+
+The farmer shrugged his shoulders, and opened his mouth with delight.
+"He's getting it now," thought he, "she pays in good coin."
+
+Turning to her father, Thoma continued:
+
+"Father, did you really mean that I should do as I choose?"
+
+"Certainly! Whatever you say will be right."
+
+"Then I say yes; I accept the honor with thanks."
+
+Fidelis, who was standing at the door, bit his lip to keep from
+laughing aloud; and an expression of astonishment spread itself over
+the faces of the farmer and the three young men. The mountain-prince
+and the other farmer's son thanked Thoma and shook hands with her, but
+when Anton offered his hand she turned quickly away, and busied herself
+with the plates and glasses.
+
+Meanwhile the farmer's wife had entered, unnoticed, and now, whilst
+they were enjoying the refreshment, spoke to them all, for she knew
+their mothers. Turning to Anton, she expressed her sympathy at his
+mother's death, saying that she was a most excellent woman, and that
+her happiness must have been great indeed when her only son returned
+from the war, safe and with honor.
+
+After the three young men had gone, the farmer's wife said:
+
+"Anton's a splendid fellow, he pleases me best of them all."
+
+"Do you think so too?" the farmer was about to ask his daughter, but he
+refrained, and only answered:
+
+"He has a tongue like a lawyer's; the only real substantial farmer is
+Titus's son and heir."
+
+Thoma left the room without a word, and that which Landolin dreaded
+came to pass. From this time Thoma and Anton met often, in public and
+alone, in the bright day time and the quiet evening. And when at length
+Thoma told her father of her love, he calmly endeavored to show her
+that this would be an unequal marriage, and that he had always had
+confidence that her pride would not allow her to throw herself away;
+as, however, he found that Thoma never wavered in her decision, he was
+wise enough to give his consent, thereby securing their gratitude
+instead of having to yield without it; for above all else he valued
+Thoma's love and respect.
+
+So it came to pass, that to-day was to take place the betrothal of the
+haughty Landolin's proud daughter with her honest, but not quite so
+well-born lover, Anton.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+"Mother!" said Thoma, during the drive, "when father was young he must
+have been the handsomest man in the country."
+
+"He was, indeed, but wild and unruly, very wild; you will have a more
+gentle husband. It will be just the opposite with you to what it was
+with us."
+
+Thoma looked up wonderingly; it was unusual for her mother either to
+think or speak so much; and her astonishment increased when her mother
+added:
+
+"If your father had been a soldier like Anton, he too would have
+learned to give way to others, and not always think himself the only
+person in the world. Heaven forgive me, I was not going to speak of
+your father at all, I only meant to tell you that you must now learn to
+give up to others; with marriage willfulness must end."
+
+The deference with which Thoma had listened at first, disappeared now
+that her mother concluded with advice and censure. She moved her lips
+impatiently, but said nothing.
+
+From the valley could be heard the din of the fair; the drums and
+trumpets in the show booths, the lowing of the cows and oxen, and the
+whinnying of the horses in the broad meadow by the river side.
+
+At the foot of the mountain, where the signpost is, Thoma beckoned to
+her a beggar, who sat by the roadside, holding out his handless arm,
+and gave him a bright, new mark.
+
+"That pleases me," said the mother, as they drove on.
+
+Thoma answered with a voice clear as the morning:
+
+"Yes, mother, on this, my day of happiness, I cannot pass the first
+beggar I meet without giving him something; and see," she cried,
+looking back, "see, he is making signs to us; he has just found out how
+much he received, and is showing it to the others. If I could only make
+the whole world happy, as happy as I am! O mother, it must be terrible!
+There sits a poor man appealing with such pitiful glances; men pass by,
+one gives nothing, the others give nothing, it is too much trouble to
+put their hands into their pockets and open their purses, and the poor
+man begs with empty mouth."
+
+The mother nodded with a happy face, and wanted to say: "You do not
+take after your father in everything, in some things you are like me,"
+but she suppressed the words. She was still vexed for having so far
+forgotten herself as to say anything against her husband.
+
+"Good morning, Thoma! Good morning, mother!" suddenly sounded in
+greeting the clear voice of Anton; he held out his hand and continued:
+
+"Come, jump out and walk with me."
+
+"No, you ride with us."
+
+"I'll walk beside you," replied Anton, and rested his hand upon the
+railing of the wagon, as he walked along.
+
+The mother made excuses for having kept him waiting, and said that the
+farmer was following on foot.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+Upon entering the fair ground, Landolin was immediately greeted by the
+farmer Titus, called the Mountain-king, whose estate lay on the other
+side of the plateau. Titus offered him a large sum for the prize cow,
+which Landolin haughtily refused. He was soon surrounded by a crowd of
+farmers, who, partly in earnest, and partly in jest, charged him with
+having ruined the fair by exhibiting her, for the other cattle looked
+small and poor in comparison. Landolin smiled; he had brought her
+merely to gratify his pride, but he was very well pleased to find that
+he had been able to arouse the envy of others; and the annoyance of the
+Mountain-king especially pleased him, as they had long been rivals. The
+other farmers had really no ambition, their thoughts and efforts were
+centered on gain. This was the case with the rivals, too, but in
+addition to this, they desired a special recognition of their superior
+importance.
+
+The Mountain-king Titus had this advantage, he despised the world, and
+let it be so understood; the man who does this the world runs after. He
+acted as if (and perhaps it was true) he desired nothing from any one;
+he had the indifference of the pretentious peasant; he might hear his
+name spoken behind him seven times without so much as turning his head
+to find out who spoke, or what was said of him. He rarely talked with
+any one, but when he did, the person addressed was happy; "The
+Mountain-king has just spoken to me, and so long, and so politely!"--he
+who could say this was elated with the honor. Landolin, on the other
+hand, despised the world no less than the Mountain-king; but he longed
+for applause and homage, and when it was not voluntarily offered him,
+he endeavored to compel it. He was boastful, and displayed his
+condescension, or even his anxiety for the good opinion of this and
+that one, and by that very means trifled away the desired standing.
+
+Landolin and the Mountain-king treated each other like friends, while
+at the same time they hated each other profoundly.
+
+Presently they stood in the presence of a third person, to whom each of
+them was bound to do honor. Pfann, the Circuit Judge, a man with a fine
+countenance, wearing gold spectacles, was walking with his wife on his
+arm, through the crowded fair, bowing here and there. He now came up to
+the two men, and told them that on the next day they would be summoned
+to serve on the jury.
+
+"I'm sorry it cannot be arranged otherwise," he added, "but the next
+term of court falls during harvest."
+
+"It's always so," cried Landolin; "in return for paying high taxes, we
+have the privilege of sitting for weeks at a time, nailed to a bench."
+
+He thought that he had spoken not only with dignity, but with general
+approval, and he looked around for signs of assent; but nobody nodded.
+
+Titus, on the other hand, was silent, and his silence was more weighty
+than Landolin's words.
+
+"We may congratulate you," said the judge's wife to Landolin; "I
+hear your daughter is to be betrothed to the miller's son, Anton,
+of Rothenkirchen. He is an excellent young man, intelligent,
+well-educated, and brave."
+
+Landolin did not appear to be altogether satisfied with this praise,
+and could not help saying, vaingloriously, even at the expense of his
+future son-in-law:
+
+"Yes, the young folks are so desperately fond of each other, that I
+have given my consent. Thank God, I am able to take a son-in-law of
+lower rank; and, indeed, he might have been an officer. But I must say
+farewell; I have waited too long, they are expecting me at the
+'Sword.'" He stepped quickly away.
+
+When the Circuit Judge had found his way through the crowd to a quiet
+corner, he said:
+
+"There you have a sample of your honest-hearted peasantry. Utter
+stupidity or cunning roughness is their alternative. The roughness hits
+at random, without reflecting how the smitten feels the blow. Landolin
+is not ashamed to belittle the brave boy his daughter is to marry,
+merely to make himself appear bigger by his side."
+
+"I still hold," answered his wife, "that the hearts of these people are
+true, and are often better than their words and deeds. Landolin did not
+really wish to speak disparagingly of Anton; he only wanted to set down
+his old rival, Titus; for Titus, too, would have been glad to have
+Anton for a son-in-law."
+
+The judge was astonished at this new information from his wife; but at
+her charitable judgment, which nothing could shake, he had long since
+left off being astonished.
+
+They wandered on; and as they proceeded, the greetings given the wife
+were, if possible, more earnest than those given the judge himself. She
+nodded to some with special friendliness, and to a few she gave a
+pleasant passing word.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+On one side of the river was the noise and bustle of the crowded fair;
+on the other, in the shade of the elms and willows, hidden from all the
+world, sat Anton and Thoma, caressing each other.
+
+"Now be sensible, and say something," said Thoma at length.
+
+"No, no, I cannot talk, and I don't need to, for everything I would say
+you know already," replied Anton. He told, however, of his awakening
+before day, of his morning walk, and how he had greeted Thoma from the
+far distance.
+
+She laughed gladly, and tears came to her eyes. She was certainly
+sincerely fond of Anton, but the deep, gushing love which now burst
+from him she had scarcely dreamed of.
+
+"Yonder is the fair," said he, "anything can be got there. I should
+like to buy something for you, but it would be useless; the world, the
+whole world, is yours."
+
+"Not quite the whole," she laughed, "but you are right, don't buy
+anything for me. All I want is your good heart; that I have, and such a
+one all the gold in the world couldn't buy. Do you know what pleases me
+best in all you say?"
+
+"Tell me what it is."
+
+"I believe every word you speak. I don't believe you could possibly
+tell an untruth."
+
+Again they were silent until, as a happy smile broke over Anton's face,
+Thoma said:
+
+"Why do you smile? Your soul laughs out. Tell me why!"
+
+"Yes, yes, love; doesn't it seem as if our river were more joyous than
+usual to-day? I've grown up on its banks, you know. When I was in the
+war, I often fancied at night I heard it rushing. It made me homesick.
+I was thinking just now, darling, that the little fishes must be happy
+down there in the water."
+
+"It will be hard, Anton, for me to grow accustomed to it. I have a real
+horror of water. When I was a very little child, one of our servants
+was drowned, and they told me that the river must have its sacrifice
+every year, and after three days it would give up the dead; so I hated
+it. But nonsense, what foolish talk! See, there comes Titus's wagon,
+with his son and daughter. The son wanted me and the daughter wanted
+you."
+
+She arose and waved her hand to them, and then called out, taking care
+they should not hear her:
+
+"Buy yourselves dolls at the fair."
+
+Anton remained seated, and a cloud passed over his face, for it pained
+him that Thoma should greet them so scornfully.
+
+A messenger came from the inn to say that Landolin had arrived. The
+hostess met them at the door, and said:
+
+"Your friends are all up stairs in the corner room. Good luck to you!"
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+The hostess of the "Sword"--it so happens that every one speaks of the
+hostess and not of the host, and her husband seems to be quite
+satisfied with it--this wise woman, according to a plan of her own, had
+changed and enlarged the old inn until it was twice as large as before.
+For, as soon as a spot had been fixed upon for a railway station, she
+had a new building added on the side toward the river, with a large
+summer hall and verandas, where the people of rank in the village could
+hold their summer gatherings in the open air. The corner room of the
+house, on the town side, she arranged especially for betrothal
+festivities. There was a great mirror, in which people could survey
+themselves at full length--to be sure not always an advantage. There
+were colored prints of young lovers, of marriages, of christenings, and
+of golden weddings.
+
+At the table sat the miller and Landolin's wife, and waited long for
+the farmer. The miller was annoyed, and Landolin's wife did not know
+what to say, for she could not deny that her husband probably kept the
+miller waiting intentionally, in order to show him who was the more
+important.
+
+The miller had an earnest, good-natured face, and a thoughtfulness in
+every word and gesture. He had a high regard for the farmer's wife, and
+expressed it to her. She looked down, abashed, for she was not used to
+being praised, and became silent. The miller, too, ceased talking, and
+whistled gently to himself.
+
+At length Landolin's step was heard, and following him came Thoma and
+Anton. Landolin shook hands with the miller.
+
+"I have been waiting a long time," the miller said.
+
+Landolin did not consider it necessary to excuse himself; he thought
+people must be satisfied with all he did, and the way in which he did
+it.
+
+The miller poured out some of the wine which stood on the table, and,
+after touching glasses, Landolin said:
+
+"We have really nothing more to arrange. You know what division Peter
+must make when he takes the estate. The money I have promised I will
+pay down the day before the wedding. The five acres of forest which I
+have bought, which border on your land, and are properly no part of my
+farm, I now give to Thoma to be hers in her own right. You have no one
+but your son, so there is nothing more to be said. Of course, you will
+not marry again?"
+
+The miller smiled sadly, and said at length:
+
+"Then give your hands to one another in God's name, and may happiness
+and blessing be yours for all time."
+
+The lovers clasped each other's hands firmly, and so did the fathers
+and mother.
+
+The betrothed drank from the same glass; and it was a good omen that
+Thoma did not take from his hand the glass, which Anton held out to
+her, but drank whilst he held it.
+
+Landolin might have spoken, but he remained silent. It is not necessary
+for him to speak. Is he not Landolin? He even looked suspiciously at
+the miller. He did not esteem him highly, for every one praised his
+good nature, and Landolin was inclined to consider good nature as one
+kind of rascality.
+
+"Father-in-law," said Anton, "whenever you come to our house you will
+find joy there, for as surely as our brook will never flow up the
+mountain side, so surely will Thoma's thoughts never turn toward her
+old home in discontent."
+
+Landolin opened his eyes at this speech; but his only answer was a tap
+on the shoulder. The miller said, with a trembling voice:
+
+"Yes, yes; 'twill be beautiful to have a young woman in our house once
+more."
+
+"Thoma will hold you in all honor," said the farmer's wife. "She honors
+her parents, and that makes sound housewives."
+
+Landolin shrugged his shoulders slightly, when the miller continued:
+
+"I'm very sure, Landolin, that your daughter is not so hot-tempered as
+you and your side of the house have always been."
+
+Landolin smiled, well pleased that people should think him
+hot-tempered, for this made them fear and respect him.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER X.
+
+
+As Landolin still remained silent, the miller felt called upon to
+speak.
+
+"I can well understand that it must be hard for you to let your
+daughter leave your house; we found it so when our only daughter was
+married. My wife--it is from her that Anton gets his ready speech--said
+that when the daughter who sang as she went up and down the stairs is
+gone, then it seems that all the cheerfulness of the house has flown
+away like a bird."
+
+At these stupid, soft-hearted words, Landolin gave the miller a
+disdainful look. But he did not notice this, and went on in a voice too
+low for the lovers to hear:
+
+"I needn't praise Anton to you any more. He belongs to you as well as
+to me. He is well educated; the military authorities wished to keep him
+in the army. They said he would be made an officer, but that is not for
+one of us. It will not be long before your daughter is the wife of the
+bailiff. My wife, thank God, lived to see him come home from the war
+with the great medal of honor. I'm sure you are glad of it too. A man
+with that medal is worth much, I do not mean in money, but wherever he
+goes he is esteemed and respected, and needn't stand back for anybody,
+no matter who he is."
+
+"We needn't do that, either," said Landolin, looking at the miller
+arrogantly. He laughed aloud when the miller added:
+
+"The judge's wife put it well when she said, 'Wherever he goes he has
+the honorable recognition of the highest rank in the whole kingdom.'"
+
+"Hoho!" cried Landolin, so loudly that even the lovers started. There
+was nothing more said; for, as the fair was over, the miller's
+relatives and the brother of Landolin's wife came in. The farmer's wife
+greeted her brother affectionately; and Landolin shook hands with him,
+and bade him welcome. He and his brother-in-law were enemies, as the
+brother-in-law sided with Titus; but to-day it was only proper that he
+should be invited to the family festival.
+
+They sat down together to the feast, when the miller remarked that next
+Sunday he would go with the lovers to visit the patriarch Walderjoergli,
+in the forest, and announce to him their betrothal. Landolin's face
+reddened to the roots of his hair, and he exclaimed:
+
+"I don't care anything for the patriarch. I don't care anything for old
+customs; and, as for me, Walderjoergli, with his long beard, is no
+saint; he's not down in my calendar."
+
+"He is a relative of my wife," replied the miller, "and you know very
+well of how much importance he is."
+
+"Just as much as there is in my glass," answered Landolin, after he had
+drained it.
+
+His wife, fearing a quarrel, declared she had great respect for
+Walderjoergli, and begged her husband to say nothing against him. Thoma
+joined her, and laid her hand on her father's shoulder, imploring him
+not to stir up a dispute unnecessarily.
+
+Landolin smiled on his child; poured a fresh glass of wine, and drank
+to the lovers' health.
+
+Anton and Thoma now started to go, but Landolin cried excitedly:
+
+"Hold on! Wait a moment, Anton! You mustn't ask for the marriage to
+take place before Candlemas. Give me your hand on it."
+
+"I have no hand to give. I have already given it to Thoma," replied
+Anton, laughing, as he went away with his betrothed.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+"How many friends you have!" said Thoma; for they were often stopped on
+their way through the crowded fair grounds, especially by Anton's old
+comrades. "I wish we were alone," she added impatiently.
+
+"Yes, love," answered Anton, "if we choose the day of the fair for our
+betrothal, and show ourselves then for the first time together, we must
+expect these congratulations, and I am glad to have them. Isn't it
+delightful to have so many people rejoice with us in our happiness? It
+adds to their enjoyment without taking from ours."
+
+"Do you really believe they rejoice?" asked Thoma.
+
+The conversation was interrupted by the handless beggar, who came up to
+thank Thoma again, and tell her how astonished he was at such a gift.
+He said he had been her father's substitute (for at that time
+substitutes in the military service were still allowed).
+
+Anton encouraged him to tell where he had lost his hand. It was on a
+circular saw, in a mill on the other side of the valley. Anton told him
+to come the next day, and perhaps he could give him work. While he was
+speaking the judge's wife approached, and congratulated them heartily.
+Thoma looked at her in surprise when she said:
+
+"You are the new generation; preserve the honesty of the old, and add
+to it the progressiveness of the present. I shall write to my son of
+your betrothal."
+
+Anton shook hands twice with the judge's wife.
+
+"I beg you will give the lieutenant my most respectful greetings."
+
+It was still difficult for the lovers to disengage themselves from the
+crowd, for a group of Anton's comrades surrounded them, saying:
+
+"At your wedding we are going to march in front of you with the flag of
+the Club and the regimental music."
+
+Anton thanked them, and said he would be much pleased.
+
+He had scarcely got out of the throng, when a teamster in a blue
+jacket, who was walking beside a four-horse wagon, called out, "Captain
+Anton Armbruster! Hallo!" and came up to him and said:
+
+"How are you? So you've got her, have you? Is that she? Is that Thoma?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then I wish you happiness and blessing. How tall and beautiful she is!
+Let me shake hands with you."
+
+Thoma gave her hand with reluctance, and the teamster continued
+jokingly:
+
+"Get him to tell you what he did one night when we were before Paris.
+We were lying by the camp-fire, roasted on one side, frozen on the
+other. Anton, who was asleep, called out, 'Thoma! Thoma!' He wouldn't
+own up to it afterwards, but I heard it plain enough. Well, good-by;
+may God keep you both. Get up," he called to his horses, and drove on.
+
+At last the lovers made their way out of the crowd to the quiet
+meadow-path, where, for a time, they walked hand in hand, then stood
+still. Any one who saw them must have thought they were speaking loving
+words to each other. The youth's voice was full of tenderness, but he
+spoke not of love, or, at least, not of love for his betrothed. He
+began hesitatingly: "Let me tell you something, darling."
+
+"What is it? What's the matter?"
+
+"Just think of our being here together, and having each other, and
+belonging to each other, and only a little while ago I was so far away
+in France. There, in the field, on the march, or in the camp, thousands
+upon thousands of us, we were like one man, no one for himself, no one
+thinking of what he was at home. The brotherhood was all; and now, each
+lives for himself alone."
+
+"You are not alone, we are together."
+
+"Yes, indeed. But you were going to ask me something."
+
+"Oh, yes! How did it happen that you called my name in your sleep?"
+
+"I'll tell you. Do you remember my passing your house when I was on my
+way to the army as a recruit?"
+
+"Certainly I remember it."
+
+"Did you notice that I took a roundabout way over the mountain, so as
+to pass it?"
+
+"I didn't notice it then, but afterward I thought of it. When you gave
+me your hand in farewell you looked at me with your fiery eyes, that
+are so piercing."
+
+"Yes, I wanted then to tell you how much I loved you, but I wouldn't do
+it, for your sake. I said to myself, 'You had better say nothing, and
+so save her from heart-ache and anxiety while you are in the war, and
+from life-long grief if you should be killed.' It was hard for me to
+keep silent, but after I had gone I was glad of it. And, do you
+remember? you had a wild-rose in your mouth by the stem, and the
+rose-leaves lay on your lips, just where I wanted to put a kiss; and at
+your throat was a corn-flower as blue as your eyes."
+
+"Oh, you flatterer! But go on, go on; what else?"
+
+Anton drew her to him and kissed her, then continued:
+
+"There! Shall I go on? Well, you took the two flowers in your hand, and
+I saw you would like to give them to me, and I wanted to have them, but
+even that I wouldn't ask. Often and often by day and by night, in the
+field and on the watch, I thought of you, as the song says: and once,
+when the teamster lay beside me, I spoke your name in my sleep."
+
+"Oh, you are so dear and so good and so sweet," cried Thoma, "I'm
+afraid I'm not gentle enough for you. In our home everything is rough,
+we are not so----. But you'll see I can be different."
+
+Her eyes moistened while she spoke, and the whole expression of her
+face changed to one of humility and tenderness.
+
+"I will not have you different," cried Anton, "you shall remain as you
+are, for just as you are you please me best. Oh, Heaven! who in the
+world would believe that Landolin's Thoma of Reutershoefen could be as
+gentle as a dove."
+
+"I gentle?" she exclaimed, laughingly, "I a dove? All right then, catch
+me!" she cried, joyously clapping her hands and running quickly into
+the forest, whither Anton followed her.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+They came within the border of the wood which belonged to Landolin. On
+the side where the sun is most searching and powerful, the bark of the
+mighty pine-trees was torn open, and the resin was dropping into the
+tubs which were set for it.
+
+"It's a pity for the beautiful trees," said Anton; "your father mustn't
+tap such trees as these hereafter; they are good for lumber. He must
+leave them to me."
+
+Thoma begged him to be very careful how he dealt with her father, for
+he would not bear opposition.
+
+"I don't know," she added, "it seems to me father is very----very
+irritable to-day. I don't know why."
+
+"But I know. He is vexed because he has to give you up. You'll see, I
+shall be so too in a thousand weeks. But a man must be a grandfather
+before----"
+
+"Oh you!" interrupted Thoma, coloring.
+
+They kept on deeper into the forest, away from the path, and sat down
+on the soft, yielding moss at the foot of a far-branching pine.
+
+"We have had enough kissing, let me rest a little now, I'm tired," said
+Thoma, as she leaned against the tree. She smiled when Anton hastily
+made his coat into a pillow for her head.
+
+Lilies of the valley blossomed at their feet. Anton plucked one, and
+with it stroked Thoma's cheek and forehead, gently singing the while
+all manner of nursery songs, and magic charms.
+++
+            I wish thee a night of repose,
+            A canopy of the wild rose,
+            Young May-bells to pillow thy head,
+            Sleep soft in thy flowery bed.
+
+And where two lovers sit thus together, in the depth of the forest,
+there streams from the mists arising heavenward, and from the murmuring
+and rustling in the tree-tops, that same subtle enchantment and delight
+which resounds in song, and is portrayed in fairy tales, where trees
+and grass and wild beasts speak.
+
+"Hark; there's a finch," said Anton. "Do you remember the story about
+the finch?"
+
+"No; tell it to me."
+
+"Once a young man went through a field to visit his sweetheart, and the
+finch called out: 'Wip! Wip!' (wife, wife.) 'That's just what I want,'
+said the young man. As he was on his way home again the finch cried:
+'Bethink you well. Bethink you well.' Now we, dear Thoma, have
+bethought ourselves well. Fly on, finch, we don't need your help. 'Wip!
+Wip!'"
+
+"How tender you are!" said Thoma, smiling; then she shut her eyes, and
+soon she was fast asleep. As Anton looked at her she seemed to become
+more beautiful, but she must have gone to sleep with some willful
+impulse in her mind, for her face had a strained expression.
+
+From a little stone near by, some lizards looked with their bright,
+knowing eyes at the slumberer and her guard. They shuffled noiselessly
+away, and presently others came to see the wonder. Dragon-flies in
+green and gold came flying through the air, brushed against each other,
+and sped away. A gay butterfly lighted on Thoma's forehead, just at the
+parting of her hair, and rested there like a diadem. On the highest
+twig of the tree, a green finch perched. He turned his head, saw the
+sleeping girl, and flew swiftly away. A cuckoo alighted from his
+flight, and sounded his cry. Thoma awoke, and looked around bewildered.
+
+"Good morning, my darling," said Anton, "you have been my betrothed
+ever since yesterday."
+
+"Have I slept very long?" asked she.
+
+"No, not very, but surely you dreamt something strange. What was it?"
+
+"I never tell dreams; I don't believe in them. Come, let us go home."
+
+And so they started homeward.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XIII.
+
+
+At the edge of the wood they saw "Cushion Kate," with her red kerchief
+round her head, standing by a young man who sat by the roadside. She
+offered him a pretzel, but he refused it.
+
+"See," said Thoma, "that's 'Cushion Kate' with her Vetturi. She spoils
+the good-for-nothing fellow. He used to be a servant of ours, but we
+found that he had been stealing oats, nobody knows how long. So, of
+course, father sent him away."
+
+"The poor creature looks almost starved."
+
+"He's not only poor, but he's a rascal. Father doesn't want to
+prosecute him, so the fellow keeps bothering him for his wages."
+
+When they came up, the lad arose quickly. He was of slight build, and
+his bluish-black hair fell in disorder over his forehead. The dark,
+weary eyes had a frightened look. He took off a torn straw hat, and
+bowed several times to Anton. He seemed to be trying to say something.
+
+"Your name is Vetturi, isn't it?" asked Anton. "Come here. Is there
+anything you want?"
+
+"I won't take alms like a beggar, I'd rather strike my mouth against a
+stone," replied Vetturi in a hoarse voice; and turning to his mother as
+though she had contradicted him, said: "Mother, you shan't take
+anything."
+
+Then in an entirely different tone he said to Thoma: "May I wish you
+joy?"
+
+"No, you may not. Nobody who speaks so disrespectfully of my father
+shall wish me joy. Own up to stealing the oats. If you do, I will go to
+father and get him to forgive you."
+
+"I won't do it."
+
+"Then abuse me, not my father. My father might, perhaps, have given up
+to you, but I won't let him as long as you keep on lying."
+
+"But I can wish you joy, Anton," cried Cushion Kate; "I hope your wife
+will be like your mother. She was a good woman; there isn't her like in
+the whole country. I was in your house when you came into the world.
+You are just eight days older than my oldest daughter would be now.
+Now, get your father-in-law to take my Vetturi again, and straighten
+everything out. We are poor people. We don't want to quarrel with such
+a powerful farmer as he is, but he must not squeeze us until the blood
+runs out from under our nails."
+
+"Come along," cried Thoma, taking hold of Anton's arm, "don't let her
+talk to you so."
+
+She walked away. Anton did not follow her, but said to Vetturi that he
+would employ him as a wood-cutter up in the forest.
+
+"My Vetturi cannot do that," interrupted the mother. "He cannot work up
+there from Monday morning to Saturday night, and have no decent food,
+and no decent bed."
+
+"Come! come!" urged Thoma from a distance. Anton obeyed, and Vetturi
+called after them all kinds of imprecations against Landolin.
+
+With a frown Thoma said to Anton, in a reproachful tone:
+
+"That Vetturi is no comrade of yours, and why do you stop and talk with
+him? I do not like it in you. You are not proud enough. Such people
+should not speak to us unless they are spoken to."
+
+Anton looked at her with astonishment. There was a sharpness in her
+words and voice which surprised him. She noticed it, perhaps, for she
+gave him a bewitching smile, and continued:
+
+"See, I am proud of you, and you must be proud of yourself. Such a man
+as you are! People ought to take off their hats when they speak to you.
+I wouldn't say good-day to a rascal, and you ought not to either.
+Perhaps you think I'm angry. Don't think that for an instant. It's only
+that I have no patience with a liar. Whatever a man does, if he
+confesses it, you feel like helping him; but a liar, a hypocrite----"
+
+"But, Thoma dear," interrupted Anton, "lying belongs to badness; a man
+who is bad enough to steal, must be bad enough to lie."
+
+"I understand everything at once. You need not always explain a thing
+to me twice. I could see a liar or a hypocrite perishing before my eyes
+and not help him until he----"
+
+"Oho! You're getting excited."
+
+"Yes, I always do when I'm on this subject. But enough of this. What
+are the cottagers to us! See there, it was there by the pear-tree that
+you said good-by to me, when you went to the war. See, it is the finest
+tree of all. It looks like a great nosegay."
+
+"And before the flowers become fruit you will be mine."
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XIV.
+
+
+Anton asked about their neighbor's daughter, Thoma's old playmate.
+Sadly she told him how she had broken with her only friend. Anger and
+shame reddened her cheeks as she related to him how her old playmate
+had, on her wedding day, worn a wreath which she had no right to wear.
+Thoma's lips quivered when she said:
+
+"They say that Cushion Kate's mother was forced to stand at the church
+door with a straw wreath on her head, and a straw girdle round her
+waist. That was hard, but just. But for the girl to lie so, before God
+and man; to accept an honor to which she had no right. To know it
+herself and yet be so bold----. There, that is just like Vetturi. I
+have no patience nor friendship with a liar, whether rich or poor, man
+or woman. He who will not take the responsibility of his own acts may
+go to perdition. Indeed, it is not necessary to tell him so, for he has
+already gone there. You laugh? You are right! Such an honorable man as
+you are doesn't need to be lectured. Now I don't need my playmate nor
+anything else while I have you and father. No princess could be happier
+than I."
+
+They went on hand in hand. When they reached the farm-house, her
+mother, who had come straight home, called to them from the window to
+wait until everything should be ready for the visitors, who would soon
+be there with their congratulations.
+
+So the two seated themselves in the garden back of the house, on the
+terrace beyond the cherry-tree, and the blossoms on the tree were not
+richer than the happy thoughts of the young couple.
+
+While they were here under the cherry-tree, Cushion Kate was sitting by
+her son; he said:
+
+"Mother, I must get away from here. I will go to Alsace, into a
+factory."
+
+"And you will leave me alone," complained the mother for the hundredth
+time; and for the hundredth time related, as though it were a comfort,
+that Vetturi's grandfather had been one of the Reutershoefen family; and
+though he received his portion as a younger son, neither he nor his
+descendants had ever been able to get along. Vetturi let his mother
+talk, but still insisted that he would go.
+
+"Mother, I'm a burden to you. It makes me ashamed."
+
+"You're not a burden to me, and you shouldn't be ashamed to stay with
+your mother. What have I left in the world if you go away? I shall
+never want to get up again. I shall never want to make the fire. If you
+go away you must take me along."
+
+"We'll see, mother. But first, I will have my pay from Landolin; this
+very day I will have it."
+
+With these words he tore himself away, and hurried to the farm-house.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XV.
+
+
+Just as the farmer's wife had expected, many people returning from the
+fair, and many too who had not been there, came to offer their good
+wishes upon Thoma's betrothal. She made them welcome, and invited them
+to eat and drink.
+
+When Landolin reached home his greeting to the guests was cool and
+careless, and he did not look at all like the father of a girl who had
+just been happily betrothed to her lover.
+
+People said afterward that they knew then from his manner what he was
+likely to do. But who knows whether they were really so wise?
+
+Landolin said to his wife:
+
+"Stop feeding these people. Start them off. Don't be so friendly and
+talkative with the herd. It's impudence for them to come to me with
+good wishes. I don't want their good wishes."
+
+He then went across the yard and stood awhile by the dog. Yes, he even
+spoke to him. "You're right, you should have been with me. Such fellows
+don't deserve a word. They ought to have a dog set on them."
+
+Then Vetturi rushed into the yard, bareheaded, and called out: "Farmer!
+for the last time I say, I want my pay, my money."
+
+"What? You want anything from me! March out of this yard at once. Off
+with you! What? You're standing there yet? Once for all, go, or I'll
+make you!"
+
+"I won't go."
+
+"Shall I untie the dog and set him on you?"
+
+"You needn't untie the dog. You're a dog yourself."
+
+"I'm what?"
+
+"What I just said."
+
+"Vetturi, you know I have a hand like iron. Go! Go, or I'll knock you
+down so you'll never move again."
+
+"Do it! Kill me! You man-skinner, you----"
+
+A stone was thrown; there was a shriek; a moan was heard that even
+hushed the barking of the dog. Vetturi fell down, groaned once, and
+then lay motionless.
+
+Anton and Thoma had come to the open gate. They stood there as if
+rooted to the spot.
+
+"For God's sake! What has happened?" Anton cried, and hastened to the
+prostrate form. But Thoma stood still, and fixed her gaze on her
+father, who was tearing open his vest, and loosening his collar.
+
+Controlling herself with a violent effort, Thoma went up to her father,
+who was staring into his open hands.
+
+"Father! What have you done?" cried she. He looked at her. There was a
+terrible change in his face. Is this the look of a man at the moment
+that he has killed another?
+
+Thoma laid her hand on his shoulder. He shook it off and said: "Let me
+alone." He was afraid of her, and she of him.
+
+At this moment it came to pass that father and daughter lost each
+other.
+
+"He's dead! His skull is broken!" called the hostler, Fidelis, who,
+with Anton, had lifted Vetturi up.
+
+With eyes cast on the ground, Thoma went to the house. Landolin left
+the yard, and went to the spring on the other side of the road.
+
+The people in the house, who had come to give their congratulations,
+hastened out. With lamentation and mourning they carried Vetturi home
+to his mother.
+
+Landolin's yard was suddenly still and forsaken; only a little pool of
+blood, near the heap of paving-stones, showed what had happened there.
+The sparrows and chickens had gathered round. The head-servant Tobias
+drove them off, and quickly swept everything away. He then threw the
+stone and the broom into the drain.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XVI.
+
+
+When Anton returned Landolin was still at the spring, holding his hands
+under its broad stream of water.
+
+"How is it?" he asked, turning round.
+
+"He is dead; he gives no sign of life," replied Anton.
+
+Landolin shook the water from his hands fiercely, and shaking his head
+slowly, said:
+
+"You saw it, Anton? You had just come up. The stone didn't touch him;
+he fell down at the sound of my voice."
+
+Before Anton could reply, Landolin asked: "Was his mother at home?"
+
+"Yes, she had just come in, and it was terrible when she threw herself
+on her son's body and cried out: 'Vetturi! open your eyes, Vetturi!
+Open your mouth, here is some brandy! Drink, do drink!'"
+
+"I, too, must drink something," replied Landolin; and placing his lips
+to the trough, he drank long. Indeed, it was plain that he purposely
+allowed the water to splash into his face, and as he slowly wiped it
+dry, he said:
+
+"Go to Thoma, now! I'll soon follow you."
+
+Anton obeyed. He found Thoma standing near the porch by the flowers,
+picking off the dead leaves of the rosemary, the yellow jessamine, and
+the carnations. She did not look round.
+
+"Thoma, here I am; don't you see me?" cried he.
+
+"Yes, I see you," answered Thoma. Her voice and her face, which she now
+turned toward Anton, were changed; and her eyes, which before had been
+so fearless, now wandered uneasily here and there.
+
+"I see you," she continued, "I see the flowers, I see the trees and the
+sky. Everything pretends to be alive, but everything is dead."
+
+"Thoma, you are always so strong and resolute. Control yourself. I
+know it is sad and distressing, but for the sake of a person who is
+dead----"
+
+"It is not only that a person has been killed; he, you, I, my father,
+all, all have received a deathblow."
+
+"Thoma, don't excite yourself so, you are always so sensible. You know
+I have been in the war, and have seen many----"
+
+"Yes, yes, it is true; you too have killed men. When he was still alive
+you were so tender-hearted toward him, and now that he is dead you are
+so hard. Say, am I still in my right mind?"
+
+"You are, if you will only control yourself."
+
+"I'll try, thank you. Do you think that my father, that any one of us,
+can ever be happy again for a single minute?"
+
+"Certainly! Your father has done nothing."
+
+"Who then has? Is Vetturi not dead?"
+
+"He is dead, but he was hurt by falling on the paving-stones. Yes, he
+was."
+
+"Anton!" cried Thoma, intensely excited, "Anton, you're not saying that
+yourself, some one else is speaking through you. Did my father tell you
+that?"
+
+Anton trembled, and Thoma continued: "Anton, for my sake you are
+speaking falsely. You lie! There he stands, and has such true eyes, so
+honest, and yet will lie. How can I now believe your Yes before the
+altar? Anton, you're telling a lie."
+
+With tremulous voice, Anton replied:
+
+"Thoma, I'm--I'm a soldier." His hand touched the medal of honor upon
+his breast.
+
+"Take that off," cried Thoma. "Go! go away! Even you can tell a lie.
+Go! go!"
+
+"Thoma! I forgive you. In affliction one turns against his dearest
+friend----"
+
+"You're no more my dearest friend. I'll not have your forgiveness. Go
+away forever and ever. I have no part in you, and you shall have no
+part in me."
+
+She rushed away and locked herself in her bedroom. Anton stood for a
+time benumbed, then knocked at her door, and spoke lovingly to her. She
+made no answer. He threatened to break open the door unless she gave
+some sign. Then the bolt was drawn; the door opened a little way; and
+at his feet fell the engagement ring. The door was again closed and
+bolted; Anton picked up the ring and went away.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER XVII.
+
+
+Landolin turned away from the spring and went into the yard. He stopped
+a moment at the dog's kennel, and said to himself: "Chained! Chained!"
+
+Did he feel, and did he wish to say that henceforth he himself was in
+chains?
+
+He unfastened the dog, and it followed him into the living-room. No one
+was there. Landolin sat down in the easy chair, nervously grasped its
+arms, and moved his hands over them as if to convince himself that they
+were still there. Then he pulled up the loose tops of his boots, as
+though making ready for a walk. He arose, but went only as far as the
+table, which he repeatedly rubbed with his hands, as though trying to
+wipe something off. With a peremptory voice he called to have the
+supper brought. It was soon ready. His wife sat down beside him. She
+said nothing; she seemed comforted, even delighted, that her husband
+was willing to eat; and she forced herself to eat with him.
+
+Landolin told the maid to call Thoma and Anton to supper. The maid
+returned with the answer that Anton had gone away, and that Thoma sent
+word that she was not coming. At this, Landolin seized his fork, and
+struck it through the cloth, deep into the hard table. His wife arose,
+her lips tightly compressed, and looked with dismay at the sacred
+family table, as though she expected to see it shed blood after her
+husband's terrible blow.
+
+The fork was still sticking in the table, when a carriage drew up to
+the door, and the District Judge and his clerk entered. The farmer's
+wife had the courage to draw the fork quickly out.
+
+Landolin held out his hand in welcome, but the District Judge appeared
+not to notice it. Landolin with a steady voice thanked the judge for
+coming so soon to find out the facts of the unhappy affair.
+
+"Pray be seated, your honor; and you, too, Mr. Clerk," he said,
+ingratiatingly; then poured out three glasses of wine, and taking one
+in his hand, touched the other two, as a sign to the gentlemen to
+drink. But the District Judge said curtly: "No, thank you," and did not
+take the glass. He leaned back in his chair while the clerk spread a
+paper on the table.
+
+"Sit down," he said to Landolin; but the latter replied: "I'm
+comfortable standing," and laid his hand upon the back of the chair
+which stood in front of him. He drummed on it with his fingers, and
+controlling himself with a violent effort, said:
+
+"Will you ask me questions, or shall I tell it in my own way?"
+
+"You may go on."
+
+"Your honor, that wine there is pure, for I brought it myself from the
+vat at Kaiserstuhl; but I think the wine at the Sword is not pure. When
+I drink during the day, and talk at the same time, it sets me beside
+myself; but the fright at the accident has brought me to my senses."
+
+"So you were drunk at the time of the----of the accident."
+
+Landolin started. "This is not a man who has come to gossip with me. It
+is a judge, and a judge over me. Stop! How can being drunk help?" These
+thoughts passed rapidly through his mind, and he replied, almost
+smiling:
+
+"Thank heaven, I am never so drunk as not to know what I am doing. I
+can stand a good deal."
+
+He bestowed a confidential smile on the judge, but when he saw the
+unchanging gravity of his countenance, he shrugged his shoulders
+contemptuously, and went on determinedly:
+
+"I can prove that the good-for-nothing fellow got no harm from me."
+
+"Have you got that down?" said the judge to the clerk; and he replied:
+"Yes, I am taking it in short-hand."
+
+The chair under Landolin's hand moved, for he was dismayed to find that
+his disconnected expressions were all written down. He now waited for
+questions to be put to him, and after a little while the judge began:
+
+"Have you not had a violent quarrel, once before to-day, with
+one-handed Wenzel of Altenkirchen?"
+
+"Have you found that out already?"
+
+"Yes. Tell me how it happened."
+
+"How it happened? The story is soon told. More than thirteen years ago
+Wenzel was my substitute in the army. My father knew him well. He was a
+boatman. You can ask Walderjoergli if he wasn't. Our families are the
+oldest in the country----"
+
+"But what has that to do with Wenzel?"
+
+"Oh yes! Well! My father gave both Wenzel and his mother a great deal
+of money and clothes, and now Wenzel still tries to bleed me."
+
+"Did you not threaten to lay him out cold if he spoke to you before
+other people again?"
+
+"Maybe I did, and maybe I didn't. A man sometimes says such a thing
+when he's angry; but I did not say it in earnest. Have I all at once
+become a man who is ready to kill any one that crosses his path? Am I
+an unknown adventurer?"
+
+Landolin waited in vain for an answer, for the judge came back to the
+main point and asked:
+
+"Were there any witnesses to the affair with Vetturi?"
+
+"Yes, to be sure! My future son-in-law, Anton Armbruster, whom you
+know, and my daughter."
+
+The District Judge desired them both to be called. He was told that
+Anton had gone away.
+
+Thoma soon entered, and the judge arose and set a chair for her
+opposite to him.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+
+Thoma sat down and folded her hands. She did not look up. "As you are
+Landolin's daughter you may refuse to testify," said the judge in a
+kindly tone. Thoma wearily raised her head.
+
+"Father! What can I say?"
+
+"What you saw."
+
+She looked steadily into her father's face. She saw that he forced his
+eyes to remain open, but the eyelids trembled as though they must close
+before her glance. She turned away with a relentless movement of her
+head, and laying her clenched hand upon the table, said:
+
+"Your honor----I say--I--I refuse to testify."
+
+Landolin groaned. He knew what was going on in his daughter's mind. She
+rose and left the room without a look or a word for any one. They all
+gazed after her in silence.
+
+The judge now asked Landolin if any of the servants had seen the
+affair. Landolin answered hesitatingly that he did not know; he had not
+looked around; but that Tobias and Fidelis were at home. It was with
+alarm that he perceived that his fate was in the hands of others.
+
+The judge asked for his son Peter. Landolin shrugged his shoulders.
+Nobody cared whether Peter was at home or not. He was an obstinate,
+insignificant boy.
+
+Nevertheless, though no one knew it, at this hour Peter had become an
+important personage.
+
+No one dreamed that the little sliding window, between the living-room
+and the kitchen, was half-open, and that Peter lurked behind it. When
+he heard his father's answer, he quickly pulled off his boots, sprang
+noiselessly down the steps to the barn where Tobias was, and said:
+
+"We now know how it happened. The stone did not hit Vetturi. Do you
+hear? And you too?" turning to the hostler Fidelis. Tobias nodded
+understandingly. Fidelis, on the other hand, made no answer.
+
+There was no time to say anything more, for the two servants were
+called into the house. Before Tobias left the yard he threw a stone
+down near the gate.
+
+Tobias was first reprimanded for having swept away the marks of blood.
+He took it all quietly, and said, in a firm voice, that he had plainly
+seen that Vetturi, who was always shaky, had not been hit by the stone,
+but had fallen down himself on the paving-stones. When the head-servant
+began speaking, Landolin had closed his eyes, but he now looked up
+triumphantly. His elbow rested on the chair; he held his hand over his
+mouth, and pressed his lips tightly together when Tobias concluded
+with:
+
+"The stone that Vetturi threw, lies down there yet, scarcely a step
+from where the master stood."
+
+Landolin raised himself to his full height. "That's the thing!
+Self-defense! I must justify myself on that ground." Landolin grasped
+the arm of the chair, as a drowning man, battling with the waves,
+grasps the rope thrown out to save him; and, just so, his soul clung to
+the thought of self-defense.
+
+Fidelis said quite as positively that he had seen his master pick up a
+paving-stone with both hands, lean back, draw a long breath, and throw
+it. It had struck Vetturi on the head, and he had not seen Vetturi
+throw anything.
+
+Landolin started up with an angry exclamation. He was told to be
+silent. The judge arose and said, evidently with forced calmness, that
+he was sorry, but, in order to prevent any tampering with the
+witnesses, he was compelled to place Landolin in confinement for the
+present.
+
+The chair moved violently, and Landolin cried:
+
+"Your honor, I am Landolin of Reutershoefen; this is my house; out there
+are my fields, my meadows, my forests. I am no adventurer, and I
+sha'n't run away for a beggar who is nothing to me."
+
+The judge shrugged his shoulders, and said that they would probably be
+able to release him in a few days.
+
+As the clerk folded his papers together, he cast a longing look at
+the poured-out wine; but he had to content himself with licking the
+ink-spots from his fingers.
+
+"May I not send my husband a bed?" asked the farmer's wife. This was
+the first word she had spoken. The judge replied with a compassionate
+smile that it was not necessary.
+
+Landolin took her hand, and, for the first time in many years, said in
+an affectionate tone:
+
+"Dear Johanna." Her face was illuminated as though a miracle had been
+worked; and Landolin continued: "Don't worry. Nothing will happen to
+me."
+
+"Can't he take me with him?" asked his wife of the judge.
+
+"I am sorry that it is impossible."
+
+She was about to send a maid-servant for Thoma, but Landolin prevented
+it, and said to the judge:
+
+"I am ready to go now."
+
+When Landolin had taken his seat in the carriage, a guard, who had been
+standing before the house, sprang upon the box with the coachman. The
+farmer's wife brought her husband's cloak, and he wrapped himself in
+it, for he was shivering, although the air was mild. He pulled his hat
+down to hide his face, and besides, it was night.
+
+The carriage rolled away. The barking of the dog, and the rumbling of
+the wheels over the plateau could long be heard. At last it died away,
+and all was still.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XIX.
+
+
+All was still in the yard. The moonbeams shone upon the house and
+barns, and glistened on the spring, the splashing of which could still
+be heard.
+
+Under the broad eaves sat the head-servant and Peter. Tobias, in
+delight, clapped his hands together, and rubbed his knees. He had not
+only testified so as to help his master, but what, if possible, pleased
+him more, he had succeeded in cheating the judge, and making a
+laughing-stock of him. It was rare fun for him. He whispered to Peter:
+
+"Only be sharp! You're smarter, slyer, than anybody guesses. You
+mustn't go after Fidelis hammer and tongs; that will only make the
+matter worse. He's a stiff-backed soldier of the new Prussian pattern.
+Just keep your head on your shoulders. By degrees, we'll teach him what
+he saw. If you turn him off now, then----Hold on! I've got it! Now
+listen to me."
+
+He stopped a moment; put his hands together, as though he had a bird
+caged in them; chuckled to himself; and not until Peter questioned him
+did he say:
+
+"Listen! Before taking the oath, they ask, 'Are you in the employ of
+the accused?' And if one answers 'Yes,' his testimony doesn't amount to
+much, good or bad. So we must keep Fidelis, do you understand! Hush!
+Who's knocking?"
+
+Tobias opened the gate and greeted the pastor, whom he told that
+Landolin had already been taken away, and that his wife was in the
+house. The pastor went to the living-room, where he found the farmer's
+wife with an open prayer-book in her hand. He commended her for this,
+and said that he would have been there earlier, but had returned from
+the fair only an hour before, and had gone to "Cushion Kate's" first.
+He strove to comfort her, reminding her that man must bow to the will
+of Heaven.
+
+The clergyman, a tall, hard-featured man, was the youngest son of a
+rich farmer. He was brusque in his intercourse with his people, but
+mingled little with them--election-time excepted--for he knew this
+conduct pleased the farmers best. In summertime the pastor was all day
+long by the brook in the valley, fishing. In the winter-time he stayed
+at home, and no one knew what he did.
+
+"Oh, sir!" said the farmer's wife, mournfully, "people don't know how
+much they love each other until something like this happens." She
+blushed like a young girl, and continued: "Children live for
+themselves; but married people----it seems to me that I have done wrong
+in not letting my husband see how much----"
+
+Her emotion would not allow her to continue. The pastor consoled her by
+saying that she had always been an honest woman, and a good wife; that
+God would ward off this evil from her; and that this misfortune would
+redound to her lasting welfare. He was astonished that this woman, whom
+people generally considered shallow, could show such deep affection.
+
+"How does Thoma bear it?" he asked.
+
+"I will call her," she answered.
+
+She went out and soon returned with Thoma, who looked so careworn, that
+for a moment the pastor could say nothing. He soon, however, endeavored
+to comfort her.
+
+"Herr Pastor," began Thoma, "what do you think about it? I don't know.
+I think I must go to Cushion-Kate's."
+
+"Wait till to-morrow morning," interrupted her mother.
+
+"No, I think I must go to-day."
+
+"Yes! do so," said the pastor approvingly, "I have just come from her
+house. She did not show by word or sign that she heard what I said. She
+sits motionless on the floor beside her dead boy. Come, you can go a
+part of the way with me."
+
+Thoma and the pastor walked side by side. The pastor could not speak of
+Anton, for this was no time for congratulations.
+
+The moon had disappeared, and dark clouds covered the sky.
+
+"It will rain to-morrow, thank God. It is much needed," was all that
+the pastor said during the walk. At the meadow-path which leads to
+Cushion-Kate's house, he asked if he should go there with her, but she
+declined and went alone. She had to pass the house of the "Galloping
+Cooper," and there, in the shadow of a pile of barrel staves, she heard
+old Jochen say to the people who sat with him on the bench before the
+house,
+
+"Oh yes! It's Landolin! They've got him now, and he won't get away.
+He'll have to pay for it, but not as his father used to pay for his
+tricks. Here, on my right thumb is still the scar where Landolin bit me
+in a fight we had. His father paid smart money for it. Yes; in old
+times the common people only had bones that the farmers' sons might
+break them. When Landolin stepped into the dancing-room, the floor
+trembled, and so did the heart of everybody there. Now, he's getting
+paid back."
+
+"Will his head be cut off?" asked a child's voice.
+
+"He deserves it; but they don't behead people any more."
+
+All this fell on Thoma like a thunderbolt. She stood as though on fire.
+Her fresh life seemed all burned away and turned to ashes. She pressed
+her cold hands to her burning face, and fled homeward, unseen.
+
+When she had almost reached the house, she started back in terror, as
+though a ghost had waylaid her; but it was only the dog who rubbed
+himself affectionately against her. Thoma was angry with herself for
+being so easily frightened. "That must not be, and certainly not now."
+The dog leaped before her, barking. He had evidently been driven home.
+
+When she came in, her mother resting her hand on her open prayer-book,
+asked how Cushion-Kate was doing.
+
+Thoma acknowledged that she had not been to see her, but did not tell
+the reason.
+
+Her mother begged Thoma to stay with her during the night. Thoma sat by
+the bed until she had gone to sleep, and then went to her own room, for
+she knew that she would disturb her mother's rest.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER XX.
+
+
+It was late at night, when Thoma threw open the window of the room in
+which she should have been asleep. Her cheeks glowed; but her lover,
+who on this mild spring night, should have been talking with and
+caressing her, came not. From the forest came the song of a
+nightingale, and from the hill behind another answered, in rivalry.
+Thoma did not hear them. She was struggling with a demon that night.
+
+Thoma was a well-bred farmer's daughter. To be sure she had not had
+much training. She had been one of the best scholars in the public
+school, and at home she was taught to be diligent and honest; and this
+she was. She was proud and imperious like her father, who had indulged
+her from her childhood, and, as her mother cared nothing for the
+outside world, had been her companion on all sorts of pleasure
+excursions. He delighted in her decision of character, and above all
+else had encouraged her pride.
+
+A daughter of a neighboring farmer had been Thoma's playmate, but in
+reality, her father was her only confidant. It might do for poor people
+to fall in love, but Thoma, as became a rich farmer's daughter, had
+made up her mind to marry only a rich and influential man of the same
+class. Anton, to be sure, was of somewhat lower rank, but still he was
+of a good family; and, though not rich, he was sought after by all the
+daughters of the country side.
+
+Even a princess is glad to be loved; and certainly no princess was ever
+more deeply loved, or received truer homage than Anton gave Thoma.
+
+And now how had it all turned out!
+
+The pride which Landolin had fostered in his child until it had grown
+all too powerful, was now turned against him, and against the whole
+world.
+
+Thoma clenched her hands. She did not want to be pardoned, or receive
+anything as a gift, not even from her lover. "He shall not come and
+say, or even hint by his manner--'The honor of your family is lost; you
+are the daughter of a murderer; but still I will be good and true to
+you.' No--it is over."
+
+As she thought of her father, her hands tightened convulsively. How
+could he have done such a thing! Common people, servants and beggars
+may now look into her life, discuss it, and pass judgment upon it. They
+may be respectful or not as they please. They will act as though she
+should be thankful to them for greeting her.
+
+With a rapidity which knows no distance, Thoma's thoughts hastened from
+farm-house to farm-house, where the daughters were condemning or
+pitying her--her--Thoma; or they were sleeping--_they_ could sleep
+peacefully, but Thoma could not sleep.
+
+As when the poison from an adder's fang permeates the body of a strong,
+vigorous man; rushes through his veins, maddens him, urging him on, and
+at the same time making him powerless; seeks outlet where there is
+none; stifles his cry for help; destroys his life--so it was with
+Thoma, when on this night she clenched her hands in silent desperation.
+A concentration of thought, a subtlety of which she never dreamed,
+possessed her. She struggled against it as against a bitter enemy, but
+in vain.
+
+Imprisonment, the penitentiary, capital punishment--these are things
+for the poor; but not for the rich and influential. Thus Thoma had
+always thought; or rather, scarcely giving it a thought, she had
+considered it a matter of course. But now--if her father confesses what
+he has done, eternal disgrace will be the consequence. Should he not
+confess, eternal falsehood, hypocrisy, constant trembling, a cowardly
+shunning of every glance, and a forced smile when criminals are
+mentioned.
+
+Thoma groaned, stricken to the heart, and then her thoughts became
+pitiful; "Oh, my father! He is sitting sleepless and alone in prison.
+This one day must seem to him like many years; like a whole life-time.
+Who can help him? Who? Who can bring the dead to life, or wipe away sin
+from the soul?"
+
+Thoma looked up at the stars. "They stand still, and twinkle and
+glitter over millions of sleepers; over millions of watchers in
+sickness, sorrow, and distress, and no one of them is more unhappy than
+I--"
+
+Tears filled her eyes. She forced them back impatiently. She must not
+allow herself to become faint-hearted, nor to lament. She would have no
+pity from any one, for any one!----Proud, proud! "But where is my
+pride? 'Tis gone. Over yonder lies a corpse, a murdered man!"
+
+It seemed to Thoma that she could plainly see Vetturi, standing before
+her with his bleeding head. She screamed aloud, but the terrible
+picture did not vanish. She threw herself on the pillows, then raised
+her head to listen. The cock crew. Her eyes closed tremulously, and, as
+she lay there but half awake, fragments of the verse from the Bible ran
+through her mind: "The cock crows--thou wilt deny"----In prison one
+does not hear the cock crow.
+
+Thoma buried her face deeper in the pillows. It was raining gently, and
+she fell asleep.
+
+The Thoma who awoke was a different girl from the Thoma of the
+betrothal morning. She soon heard this from strangers. Her former
+playmate, with whom she had quarrelled, came and told her how changed
+she was, and that they must be friends again. Thoma soon showed her,
+however, that she had not grown more lenient with the change, and would
+accept no pity. She repulsed the disgraced girl coldly and sharply.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXI.
+
+
+The prison at the county-town stands high up on the mountain; the sound
+of the bells in the village on the plateau reaches it from far away.
+Landolin knew they were tolling for a funeral. He thought of home,
+where they were burying Vetturi. He tried to imagine all that was
+passing, but he could not.
+
+Round Cushion-Kate's little house stood a crowd of people, mostly
+women, for their husbands did not think it worth while to lose a day's
+work for an insignificant person like Vetturi.
+
+The district physician left the house, followed by the bailiff and the
+clerk of the borough, who put on his hat as he came out of doors. Then
+came the pastor. The sobs and weeping became louder and louder, and
+almost drowned the tolling of the bells.
+
+The procession was formed. Cushion-Kate followed the bier with her red
+kerchief tied under her chin, and pulled far down over her forehead, so
+that her face could scarcely be seen; and reaching from her shoulders
+to her feet hung the large black woolen cloak which the borough
+furnished to mourners. Her eyes were fastened on the ground as she
+walked.
+
+As the procession passed Landolin's house, she shook her bony fist
+toward it, from under the black cloak.
+
+The house was closed. No window was thrown open.
+
+Anton, who walked in the procession next to the village clerk, could
+not see that Thoma joined the last persons of the little train, and
+knelt in the churchyard, hidden by a hedge.
+
+The pastor spoke a few touching words of comfort. He exhorted the poor
+bereaved mother to bear no malice in her soul--to leave punishment to
+God. He repeated that he who thinks of revenge and retaliation does
+more harm to his own soul than to him whom he seeks to punish.
+
+Cushion-Kate's moans changed to rebellious mutterings. But almost as
+many eyes rested upon Anton as upon Cushion-Kate herself; and overcome
+by his emotion, he suddenly burst into loud weeping.
+
+The procession broke up, and the people scattered in different
+directions. Anton started away. He walked slowly, as though undecided
+what to do; and then turning as with a sudden presentiment, he saw
+Thoma, who was rising from her knees. She stood still. She seemed to be
+embarrassed at his seeing her. He turned back, and holding out his
+hand, said,--
+
+"One must not say good day, in the churchyard; or perhaps you do not
+share the superstition?"
+
+She neither answered, nor gave him her hand.
+
+"May I walk with you? See, they are looking at us. Be calm!"
+
+She walked by his side without raising her eyes.
+
+"I'm waiting patiently for you to speak," said Anton in a low tone.
+
+She looked into his face with her great eyes, but their glance was
+changed.
+
+"Is your father here?" she asked at length; her voice too was changed.
+
+"No, he is at home," replied Anton. "Shall he come and see you?"
+
+She shook her head silently, and Anton continued:
+
+"Unfortunately your father quarreled with every one yesterday; with the
+one-armed man, and with my father. He thought your father had already
+returned from town, and so he did not come now. Your father must make
+the first visit."
+
+Thoma cast a bitter, wounded glance at Anton, who said in a soothing
+tone, almost gaily indeed, that Thoma's father had been so fierce with
+all the world because he had had to give up his daughter. A sad smile
+passed over Thoma's face.
+
+"I may go home with you, may I not?" asked Anton.
+
+Thoma stood still. She laid her hand on her heart, and said:
+
+"I am done with this. I have settled it here. Don't say that it is
+pride, don't say that I did not love you;--or, if it is a comfort, you
+may think so. Anton, I am walking with you for the last time. I am
+speaking to you for the last time. Anton, it must, it _must_, be all
+over between us. I cannot, I will not----I will not go into a house
+where I do not bring honor. I will learn to bear my lonely life. Seek
+for yourself some other happiness. Farewell!"
+
+"Thoma, you thrust from you him on whom you should lean."
+
+"I thrust no one away from me, and I will lean on no one."
+
+They had reached the house. She entered quickly, leaving Anton standing
+alone outside, but he was not long by himself, for Tobias and Peter
+came up to him. They welcomed him heartily; for of course he would
+testify, as they would, that the stone did not hit Vetturi, but that he
+had fallen down on the sharp-pointed paving stones in terror at
+Landolin's strong voice. They were very careful not to say that Vetturi
+had thrown a stone first.
+
+They said how fortunate it was that a man so highly thought of as Anton
+had seen it all plainly; and Tobias added, smirkingly, that it was well
+that the engagement was broken off for the present; for, as son-in-law,
+his testimony would not have full weight. He further begged Anton to
+instruct his comrade Fidelis. "Go and call Fidelis," Tobias said to
+Peter, who soon returned with him. The head-servant and the son now
+urged Fidelis to let Anton convince him that he had been mistaken; but
+Fidelis remained immovable, and repeated that he had no doubts in the
+matter. He was sure that Anton's convictions were as honest as his own,
+even though they differed from them ... but for his part, he could not
+and would not say anything different from what he had seen. In court it
+would appear who was right.
+
+Anton returned home troubled. He said to himself: "Have I let Landolin
+tell me what I saw? Shall I lose my heart to the daughter, and my
+conscience to the father? It would be better if the marriage had not
+been broken off, for then I could refuse to testify."
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXII.
+
+
+The farmer's wife had often visited her husband in the presence of the
+examining magistrate. Peter had several times accompanied his mother,
+but Thoma did not come. Her father was too high-spirited to inquire for
+her, or ask why she staid away. Perhaps she disapproved of his
+obstinacy in staying in prison; perhaps she approved of his pride, for
+Landolin had told the judge, "I will not go out with a halter round my
+neck, for people to make sport of me; one to pull it tight, so as to
+choke me a little, and another to graciously loosen it. I will only go
+as a free man. And didn't you say that I am to appear in court next
+week?"
+
+So he staid in prison, and was not obliged to see any one but his wife,
+his son, the examining magistrate, and his attorney. But one pair of
+eyes he saw, that looked more friendly at him than the eyes of a child
+or a sister. The district judge's wife had obtained permission to visit
+the prisoners.
+
+And the hearts must indeed have been hard that were not gladdened when
+that lady entered the cell, while the guards waited at the open door.
+
+Madame Pfann--for by this simple title did the judge's wife allow
+herself to be called--Madame Pfann was exceedingly happy in her
+marriage. Although her husband could not forbear occasionally laughing
+at her missionary zeal, nevertheless he willingly allowed her her own
+way in everything. He delighted in the many successes she achieved, but
+above all other things, in the unwavering faithfulness with which she
+fulfilled the duty she had taken upon herself.
+
+They had an only son, who in July, 1870, entered the army as a
+volunteer, was promoted to a lieutenancy on the field of battle, and
+had remained in the service. Madame Pfann had not waited for some great
+event before she set herself to work. Years before she had commenced
+the work of philanthropy, and carried it out with a zeal that was
+universally acknowledged. She was the daughter of a plain professor in
+the gymnasium at the capital; and she took pleasure in saying that she
+owed her capacity for her work to her father's simple and noble
+character.
+
+She was aware that people called her conduct eccentric and sentimental;
+but she cared nothing for that.
+
+An old-time saying tells us that on the path of heroic deeds a man has
+to battle with giants and monsters. Madame Pfann had had to battle with
+a great and noble intellect. She remembered Goethe's cynical words,
+that finally the world would be bereft of all beauty, and each one
+would be only his neighbor's benevolent brother.
+
+Veneration for our great poet was an heir-loom in her girlhood's home.
+Fierce was the conflict before she overcame the mighty coercion of the
+master mind, but she gained at last that liberty which shakes off the
+fetters of an undue veneration. She was convinced that even a Goethe
+cannot give precepts for all time. Our age has made the unity of human
+interests its law, and no longer tolerates a mere aesthetically selfish
+life. Yes, out of a life devoted to the common welfare, springs a new
+beauty of being.
+
+Madame Pfann often met with rudeness and thoughtlessness where she
+least expected it, so that her experiences were sometimes painful; but
+she remained steadfast.
+
+In her visits to the prisons, she refused to interfere in the least
+degree with the course of the law. She only desired to comfort the
+prisoners; to make them at peace with themselves; and above all things
+she wished to help their friends who were left destitute at home. Here,
+too, she had sorry experiences. Rascals imposed upon her, and amused
+themselves in sending her on fruitless missions, and would even give
+her directions whose baseness she could not suspect.
+
+She knew that baseness and uncleanness existed, and yet clung to her
+faith in greatness, nobility, and purity.
+
+In the course of time she settled upon a regular method of talking with
+the prisoners. She sought to learn of their early life, but she found
+that they distrusted her motive, suspecting that she was seeking to
+discover some crime which they might have committed, and she had to
+contend with their cunning, which led them to tell her falsehoods.
+
+Often, however, she succeeded in bringing the most hardened to better
+thoughts and feelings, so that they spoke with tremulous voice of the
+paradise of youthful innocence.
+
+When Madame Pfann visited Landolin in prison, she found her task easier
+than usual, for she had long known him and his family. He quickly gave
+her to understand that he did not value her visit very highly, as she
+honored the commonest prisoner in the same way.
+
+He listened attentively for her answer, and was not surprised when she
+replied, with a smile:
+
+"I cannot double myself when I visit you; but I will come oftener if
+you like."
+
+It now happened, as it often had before with prisoners, that Landolin
+looked for her visit as a diversion, and that was something gained.
+
+"Has Titus been here, and taken a look at the tower where I shut am up?
+Or perhaps he has not wanted to see me. I'll say beforehand I won't see
+him," said Landolin, angrily.
+
+Madame Pfann saw that his thoughts were occupied with his rival, so she
+said that no one should rejoice in another's misfortune, for every one
+has his own secret sorrow.
+
+"Has he? Has anything happened to him?" asked Landolin, eagerly.
+
+The lady said: "No!" and then turned the conversation to his childhood.
+He related his boyish pranks, and laughed heartily over them; but still
+he censured his father for having yielded to him in everything, except
+once when he wanted to marry the Galloping Cooper's sister, for whom he
+had had a fancy. He even complained of his wife for having always
+yielded to him. He said he was the most grateful of men when any one
+kept him from his wild pranks, even though at first he rebelled against
+the restraint. Then he stopped short. He was afraid he had betrayed
+himself, and protested solemnly that he was innocent of Vetturi's
+death.
+
+Madame Pfann asked, "Would you like me to have some flowering plants
+brought here?"
+
+Landolin laughed aloud and said: "I don't want anything with me except
+my dog."
+
+She promised to see that he should have it. She soon found that it
+really was a very deep grief and trouble, that Thoma did not come to
+see him.
+
+Madame Pfann went to Reutershoefen, and listened patiently to his wife's
+lament that her life was changed since her husband's hat hung no longer
+on its accustomed nail. When Thoma came in after a long delay, the
+kind-hearted lady was touched by her appearance, and told her that she
+could well imagine her grief, in having been plunged in one day from
+the highest joy to the deepest sorrow.
+
+Thoma trembled. She had never before placed the two events so close
+together. Madame Pfann felt the awkwardness of her remark, and
+endeavored to reassure her by saying that she had no doubt that she
+could adjust the difficulty with Anton, for he had great confidence in
+her. Thoma soon became more composed, but she was still silent.
+
+Madame Pfann urged her strongly to lighten her father's imprisonment by
+visiting him.
+
+"You mean it well, I know," replied Thoma, "you are very good, but I
+cannot; I cannot go down the road, and up the prison stairs, and I
+should be no comfort to my father, quite the contrary. It is better as
+it is."
+
+"It is not better, only more comfortable, more easy for you; you will
+not conquer yourself."
+
+Thoma was silent.
+
+Madame Pfann arranged for Tobias to take the dog to its master.
+
+She then went to see Cushion-Kate, who called out:
+
+"You went to Landolin's first. I'll not let you into my house."
+
+She bolted the door and Madame Pfann went quietly homeward.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+
+"The house is changed when the husband's hat no longer hangs on its
+accustomed nail," the farmer's wife often said. Her thoughts were not
+many, but those she had she liked to repeat like a pater noster.
+
+When, on the morning after her husband's arrest she said this for the
+first time, and was about handing Thoma the keys, Peter called out:
+
+"Mother, give me the keys; I am the son of the house, and I must take
+the reins now."
+
+If the stove had spoken they could not have been more astonished.
+Peter, whom they had all looked upon as a dull, idle fellow, who did
+only what he was told, and never undertook anything of himself--Peter
+of a sudden gave notice of what he was and what he wanted, and even his
+voice, generally heavy and drawling, became somewhat commanding and
+energetic. In reality a transformation had begun in Peter. He ceased to
+be taciturn and became almost talkative. His natural effort to aid his
+father had called forth a latent energy, which no one, least of all
+himself, had ever suspected, and which once aroused, continually grew
+in strength. Other awakenings assisted in changing his trouble into a
+joyous sense of courage; yes, almost of presumption. It was not only at
+home, but in the whole neighborhood that people saw with astonishment
+how his father's absence had changed him. The head-servant, Tobias,
+smiled as he went about his work at the thought that he had had a hand
+in helping Peter into the saddle. And, indeed, Peter was, literally,
+much on horseback, riding everywhere on the bay mare, to tell the
+people who were at the house congratulating Thoma at the time of the
+accident, what they had seen. Some of them thought they knew all about
+it; and some, on the other hand, declared they had seen nothing; for
+they did not want the trouble of testifying in court.
+
+Wherever Peter went the people said, "No one knew that you were such a
+smart fellow. Thoma used to be the only one talked about, just as
+though there were no such person as you." Peter smiled craftily when he
+heard this; he put on a grieved, troubled look, and shook his head, but
+was nevertheless pleased to hear people add, "Your father rather put
+you down."
+
+Peter was not unassuming; quite the reverse, for he looked upon all men
+as his debtors. They had allowed him to grow up in simplicity and
+honesty for three and twenty years without revealing to him how sweet
+knavery tastes. But now, he was finding out for himself.
+
+"Look! Look! There comes Peter of Reutershoefen!" was heard up and down
+the mountain side.
+
+"What Peter?"
+
+"Landolin's Peter."
+
+"Yes, people did not know what kind of a fellow he was; they thought he
+couldn't count three; and now he turns out to be one of the sharpest
+fellows possible."
+
+It was true; he had not been exactly a blockhead; but dull and
+unsympathetic. And what had he now become?
+
+It may, perhaps, seem unnatural, but nevertheless it was a thoroughly
+logical development; he had become an accomplished hypocrite.
+
+Once, at a fair, when Peter had taken an electric shock, a strange
+something ran through his frame. He had very much the same feeling the
+first time that Tobias said to him, "We must act as though we had seen
+everything so, and seem thoroughly honest about it, and then we shall
+be able to make other people think so."
+
+Peter discovered that hypocrisy was sweet to the taste; and that it was
+no new thing for the world to feast on it.
+
+Wherever he went people condoled with him over his misfortune, even
+when he was quite sure they were glad of it.
+
+However, he paid them in the same coin by pretending to be excessively
+amiable. This helped to make him energetic; for the secret pleasure and
+delight of making a laughing stock of others, animated him anew every
+morning. He and Tobias made themselves merry over the trick they were
+playing on the people, and on having succeeded in persuading a few
+simple-minded persons, as well as some rascals, to testify as they
+wished. Tobias gave his pupil this advice:
+
+"Now, you see, sharp people get along best in this world. They are
+never cheated nor plagued. If you want anything of them, and knock at
+their door, they pretend not to be at home. 'There is no one at home;
+and I'm asleep,' as the old peasant woman called out to the beggar that
+knocked at her door on a Sunday afternoon."
+
+Only once was Peter worsted. He went to see Anton, and told him he
+thought he had been very wise in breaking off with Thoma so promptly;
+for now, as he was no longer related to them, he could be a witness for
+his father.
+
+Peter was not a little astonished to hear Anton answer that it was
+Thoma who had broken off the match, and that it was hardly possible for
+them to make it up again.
+
+What? Will Anton refuse to tell him the truth? Is he so sly as to try
+to keep up a false show before his brother even?
+
+Anton's bright face darkened when he heard Peter's words. He saw
+clearly through his scheme, and astonished him by replying that he
+would tell no one how he would testify; that he had taken counsel with
+his conscience, and would do as he thought right.
+
+Notwithstanding this, Peter, with honest mien, confided to many
+persons, under strict injunction of secrecy, the testimony that Anton
+would give; and in this way persuaded some of them, for they thought:
+"Whatever Anton Armbruster says is certainly true."
+
+It was with dismay that Thoma heard--for Peter made no secret of his
+preparations--what corruption he was spreading over the whole
+neighborhood; but she could do nothing to prevent it, and had to keep
+silent when her mother praised the good, kind people.
+
+So the time drew near for Landolin to appear before the court for which
+he had been selected as juryman.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+
+The days, the weeks, came and went; the crops in the field grew
+steadily; and the work went on in its usual good order, under the
+direction of Tobias and Peter. They had hired a new servant in place of
+Fidelis, who had left their service of his own accord, and had been
+engaged by Titus.
+
+The pine trees had put on their yearly growth; rye and early barley
+were ready for harvest; and the hay was already cut and put away. Thoma
+was the most active in all this work; but she spoke with no one, and
+looked up astonished when the men and maid-servants sang as they went
+about their tasks. Her face said plainly: "They can sing, they have no
+father in prison."
+
+It was a bright summer morning. The farmer's wife was up before day,
+for she wanted to see Tobias and Peter before they drove to the city.
+
+After the servants who remained at home had eaten their breakfast, and
+the dishes had been cleared away, she still sat at the table, in the
+so-called "Herrgott's Corner." Her hands were folded on the table
+before her. She gazed at them wearily and sadly.
+
+On a bench, beside the large stove in which there was no fire to-day,
+sat Thoma at her spinning. Nothing could be heard but the low whirring
+of the wheel, and the ticking of the clock on the wall.
+
+"Thoma," at length began her mother, "you're right in not going to the
+field to-day. My feet feel as though they had given way. Say, is to-day
+Wednesday or Thursday? I don't know any more----"
+
+"To-day is Thursday, the tenth of July, mother."
+
+"And he is in court, on trial for his life. Look and see what saint's
+day this is."
+
+"The calendar is hanging right behind you."
+
+The farmer's wife seemed not to care to turn or look around. She rubbed
+her hands hastily over her head, as though to keep her hair from rising
+on end, and said, as if speaking her thoughts aloud:
+
+"So many people! I see them all, one after another, just as they
+were when I was a little child, and they beheaded Laurian, on the
+city-green."
+
+"Mother! Don't talk so. We must control our feelings, whichever way
+things turn out."
+
+"What! Can it turn out any other way?"
+
+"Who knows? That is what the trial is for."
+
+"Surely there must be compassionate and just men there, who will have
+pity. There are many who rejoice in our misfortune, but there are more
+who mean well by us. Your Anton will testify for your father, and will
+pledge his medal of honor for him."
+
+"More than that," added Thoma; but she did not explain what she meant.
+
+Will Anton persist in saying that he saw what her father told him he
+did? Does he really believe that he saw it in that way? or will he ruin
+his own life in order to save another's? She compressed her lips
+tightly. She thought she must scream out for pain.
+
+But her mother seemed to find it necessary to express her thoughts; and
+again she murmured, half aloud:
+
+"What are the servants talking about, to-day? I am ashamed to go among
+them, and I dare not say a word, for fear they will answer me with
+insult and abuse. I hear that people from all over the valley have gone
+to the city to-day, to see Landolin sitting on the prisoner's seat.
+Yes, there he sits, and has to let the gentlemen of the court say
+everything they can think of right in his face. And everybody rejoices
+in it, and yet they themselves are--God forgive me! Yes, so it is, if
+anything is wrong with oneself, one tries to find something wrong with
+one's neighbor. There stands your arm-chair. Who knows if you will ever
+sit in it again, and rest your strong arms and good hands! When will
+the door open again and you come in? Hush! Listen Thoma! Don't you hear
+something? There is some one at the door! I hear some one breathing. It
+might be Cushion-Kate, or is it----Open the door!"
+
+Even Thoma could not shake off her fear; but summoning her courage, she
+opened the door, and, with a sigh of relief, cried, "It is Racker."
+
+"Come here," said her mother to the dog, coaxingly. "Do you know what
+is the matter with your master to-day? Will he ever see you, and lay
+his hand on your head again? Yes, yes; look at me pitifully! If men
+were as pitiful as you----"
+
+"You're right, mother," said Thoma at length. "See, mother, everybody
+on his way to the field to-day, fills his pitcher at our well, as if
+there was water nowhere else. They look toward our house as though they
+took pleasure in our misfortune. I wish I could poison the well, so
+they would all die! I wish I could poison the whole world!"
+
+The mother longed to soothe her daughter, but dared not try. She was
+thankful that Thoma at least spoke, instead of staring silently before
+her. And now that Thoma had once broken her silence, she continued:
+
+"Mother, I want to go to the city."
+
+"You, too, will leave me?"
+
+Thoma explained that she would soon return. She only wished to
+telegraph to Peter, to report to her the verdict as soon as it should
+be rendered, and she would leave word at the telegraph office for the
+messenger, the "Galloping Cooper's" brother, to wait all night for the
+message.
+
+Her mother took up her prayer-book, and said: "Well, you may go; but
+don't hurry too much."
+
+"Come along," Thoma called to the dog, and, with him, hastened out of
+doors.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXV.
+
+
+At the edge of the forest stands a pine tree, with its top bent down.
+Some say that it was struck by lightning; others say a raven has
+lighted there so often that his weight and the clutching of his claws
+have broken it. But the strong-rooted pine grows on.
+
+Is Landolin's house such a tree; struck by lightning, and bowed down by
+dark sorrow? And will it flourish again?
+
+Thoma stood in the road, and looked around, as though for the first
+time she saw that the heavens were blue, and the trees and fields were
+green. She had to exert herself to remember for what and where she was
+going.
+
+"Oh, yes," sighed she, and started away.
+
+A narrow foot-path led over the hill, down into the valley, to the
+city. To be sure she must pass Cushion-Kate's house; but why shouldn't
+she? Nevertheless, Thoma, who before had been so strong and brave,
+could not overcome a certain terror; as though, like the children in
+the fairy-tale, she must pass a frightful dragon, lying in wait for her
+at the mouth of his rocky cave.
+
+To be sure Thoma is much stronger than the poor old woman, but, for all
+that, it is hard enough to be obliged to conquer the crouching foe.
+"Or, may it not be possible to help the poor woman, who must suffer
+even more than we do? In the midst of her bitter trouble, may we not
+save her the necessity of working for her daily bread?"
+
+Just as I thought! There is Cushion-Kate sitting at the stone
+door-sill; both hands pressed to her temples, and her head bent down,
+so that the red kerchief almost touches her knee.
+
+Did the poor creature know that this was the day of the trial? She
+seemed to be asleep, and Thoma, holding her breath, walked noiselessly
+along. But when she had come nearly opposite to her, the old woman
+suddenly raised her head. Her eyes glittered, and she called out:
+
+"You! you! To-day is the day of payment."
+
+"May I not say a kind word to you?"
+
+"Kind? To me? You? Go away or----"
+
+She pulled out a pocket-knife, opened it, and cried: "I too, can
+murder! You are his child; and he was mine. Go!"
+
+As Thoma turned tremblingly away, the open knife, which the old woman
+had thrown at her, fell at her side. She hurried down the hill; and,
+until she reached the forest, she could hear loud moans and screams
+behind her.
+
+Cushion-Kate had been in the beginning a gay-hearted little woman
+enough. A patch-work tailor's daughter, a patch-work tailor's wife, one
+could almost say that her life was a patch-work of little gay-colored
+scraps like her cushions. She was one of those placid, grateful people
+who are thankful for the smallest gift of Providence, and who never
+wonder why they too cannot live in abundance, like the rich farmers.
+After she had drunk her chicory coffee, she went about her work,
+singing like a thrush. And who knows but she put the same ease with
+which she carried the burden of life into her cushions; for it was
+acknowledged that they were the softest in all the country side. She
+seemed to have entirely forgotten her sad birth. Now, a heavy
+affliction had come upon her. Her last and only treasure was taken
+away; and suddenly fear, bitterness and hate, and all the spirits of
+evil took possession of her. Suddenly, as though she had awakened from
+a sleep in a paradise of innocence, she perceived how miserable her
+life was; and she hated every one who lived in prosperity, and had
+children to rejoice in. Above all others, she hated the murderer of her
+child, and his family. Her only thought and wish were that he and they
+should suffer and be brought to ruin.
+
+The poor old woman carried a heavy burden of sorrow and hate. Her life
+had been darkened, and she only wished to stay until she had avenged
+herself on Landolin. This was why she had been so sullen and morose
+since her son's death.
+
+Hate, anger and misery grew within her, and transformed her happy, kind
+heart into a sad and wicked one.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+
+In the summer garden of the Sword Inn, the linden trees were in full
+bloom. The bees came, sipped, and flew away without asking for the
+reckoning. But to make up for this, the finches sang without pay; and
+the swallows circled round, as though dancing a figure in the air, and
+sometimes shot after a honey-laden bee.
+
+Everything rejoiced in its own way. It was a morning so full of
+freshness, so full of enjoyment and exuberant life, one could hardly
+believe that misery still existed in the world.
+
+A horseman trotted up to the garden fence, stopped, dismounted, and
+gave his horse to the servant, telling him to take it home and say to
+his wife that if any one asked for him she might send him here; that he
+would, however, soon be at home.
+
+"Good morning, doctor," called the hostess, from the veranda. "You have
+come just at the right time. We have this moment tapped a keg of beer."
+
+The physician had already heard that refreshing, enticing sound, that
+deep thud when the spigot is driven into the keg, and that clear sound
+when the bung is drawn.
+
+The hostess brought him the first glass. He held it up to let the sun
+shine through the clear amber liquid, and then drank it with evident
+enjoyment.
+
+"I had to go out before day this morning, all the way to Hochenbraud,"
+said the doctor, as he drained the glass; then said, "Give me another,
+for my twins." As he drank the second glass, he told the hostess that
+he had that morning assisted at the advent of a pair of twins into the
+world; two fine, healthy boys.
+
+"It is curious that something very extraordinary is always happening
+to Walderjoergli. His first great grandchildren are twins. It is a
+blessing that this strong, upright race should go on growing. They are
+honest-hearted men of the old primitive German type."
+
+"They are shrewd, too," interposed the hostess. The physician went on
+to say that the primitive Germans must have been crafty rascals, for
+savages are always cunning.
+
+"But where is our host?"
+
+"Of course he has gone to the trial. There is an actual pilgrimage
+to-day. As early as half-past three this morning we had sold a whole
+keg of beer. The witnesses went on the express-train. There were men
+and women from Berstingen, from Bieringen, from Zusmarsleiten, from
+everywhere, who had nothing to do with the trial, but went from
+curiosity. They wanted to see Landolin brought before the court. The
+station-master says that when a man is on trial for his life the people
+throng to see his distress. He thinks that people will spare neither
+pains nor money to gratify their desire to see the misfortunes of
+others. But the district-forester says that the people go more because
+they long for something new to break in upon the monotony of every-day
+life."
+
+The cautious hostess gave this as a report, and not as an opinion of
+her own.
+
+As soon as the physician said: "Both are true," she cried:
+
+"I am glad to hear you say so. It is pleasant when one gives medicine
+to have the doctor come and say: 'that was right. I should have
+prescribed that myself.' But I should like to ask you----"
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Do you think it possible for Landolin to be acquitted?"
+
+"With God and a jury all things are possible."
+
+"Yes; but then, who killed Vetturi? For he is dead!"
+
+"That question is not on the list."
+
+The hostess went on to tell how Landolin's head-servant, Tobias, had
+been talking that morning with every one, and cunningly instructing
+them what to say. How he had said, with a laugh, that the life of such
+a person as Vetturi was not of enough value to have a man like the
+ex-bailiff imprisoned an hour for it. Tobias wanted to pay for what
+they all drank; but--and as she told the story, the hostess' face
+became a flaming red--she had declared that each person must order her
+to take pay from Tobias for him; then it would be known what was to be
+thought of him and what might follow later. Some of them seemed to be
+frightened at this hint.
+
+The doctor laughed and replied that the rich farmer thought money would
+do everything; and his son Peter, instigated by his father of course,
+had offered to sell him their fine horse at a third of its value. They
+wanted him to testify that Vetturi, who had suffered from severe
+illness ever since his childhood, was weak and easily injured; so that
+a fall on level ground might have killed him.
+
+"I am sorry for Thoma," began the hostess. "She was such a stately,
+fresh-hearted girl; and how well she and the miller, Anton, were suited
+to one another. He, too, was here this morning. He is one of the
+witnesses, but he staid in the garden, and kept looking at the medal of
+honor on his breast. Do you think the trial will be finished in one
+day?"
+
+The physician could give no opinion, and the hostess continued:
+
+"Our dear good Madame Pfann was going to Landolin's house to spend this
+sad day with his wife and Thoma. I advised her not to go now. They will
+need her soon enough.
+
+"I don't believe there is another pure soul like hers in the world.
+Why, she finds something pure hidden even in a man like Landolin. Our
+Madame Pfann is a woman such as they had in the time of the Apostles."
+
+"Bravo!" cried the doctor, "I have seen a rare wonder: one woman
+unreservedly praising another."
+
+"Yes; who can know the judge's wife and not praise her? But she seeks
+neither praise nor thanks from anybody."
+
+"She needs none. He to whom nature has given the blessing of such a
+good heart is the possessor of all human good."
+
+The telegraph messenger came into the garden, and handed the physician
+a dispatch.
+
+"I've got it now," cried the physician, when he had read it. "When does
+the next express train leave?"
+
+"In seven minutes."
+
+The physician explained to her that the defendant had called for his
+oral opinion. He left word for his wife that he was called away, and
+hastened to the station, where he met Thoma, just coming in.
+
+"Are you going too?" asked he.
+
+"No; I just want to send word to my brother to telegraph me the
+decision as soon as it is announced."
+
+"I will attend to that for you."
+
+The train sped away. Thoma asked the telegraph messenger, who was a
+brother of the "Galloping Cooper," to wait all night and bring her the
+dispatch as soon as received.
+
+Thoma walked homeward. From the hill she could see the train in the
+distance. It sped by hamlets and villages, through newly-mown meadows,
+past fields where potatoes were being gathered in little heaps. The
+passengers talked together about the flood which had done such great
+damage in Switzerland; of the political questions of the day; of the
+conflict with Rome. The physician heard it all as in a dream. It
+troubled him that he had after all to testify in Landolin's case. How
+could the defence hope for any advantage from his testimony?
+
+The train stopped at the county-town. One of the court officers was
+waiting for him with a carriage, and took him to the court-house. The
+air within was damp and sultry.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+
+Long before day the bell from Landolin's prison cell rang violently.
+The keeper heard it, but did not hurry in the least.
+
+"You can wait," he said to himself, and dressed leisurely. He was a
+tall, broad-shouldered man, of dignified and imposing appearance. He
+had been appointed to his excellent position as a reward for bravery in
+the war, and felt that he carried in his own person the whole dignity
+of the court. He was gruff, but could, when he chose, be polite and
+condescending; and he had a reason for being polite to Landolin.
+Softening his powerful voice as much as he could, he asked what
+Landolin wanted so early. It was scarcely day. Landolin gave him a
+bewildered look; then he said,
+
+"I heard the early train whistle. The people from my village have come
+in it. Go to the Ritter inn and bring my head-servant, Tobias, here. It
+shall not be to your disadvantage."
+
+"I'm sorry I can't do that. You were bailiff yourself, and you know
+what the law is."
+
+"Then call my lawyer."
+
+"It's too early."
+
+"It is not too early. I have a right to see my lawyer at any time."
+
+"All right, I'll bring him; but I advise you to compose yourself
+to-day. If you get so excited, you will be a witness against yourself."
+
+Landolin looked at the keeper as though he wanted to knock him down,
+but he controlled himself. His face bore the marks of the battle which
+he, who was formerly so self-willed, had been fighting for weeks, and
+especially during the past night. Yesterday he had shaved off his full
+beard, which had grown in the prison; and it was plain that he had
+grown old very rapidly. The elasticity of his flesh, and the brown,
+healthy color were gone; and his features were faded and flaccid.
+
+Swallows twittered as they flew hither and thither about the grated
+window. Landolin whistled a gay tune; and he continued whistling when
+the key turned in the door, and his lawyer entered.
+
+"So gay already?" said the lawyer; "I hardly knew you. Why! What made
+you cut off your beard?"
+
+"Why? So the jurymen can recognize me."
+
+"Very good. Now what do you want?"
+
+The lawyer had not uttered a syllable about the early hour. His
+relation to the accused was that of a physician to his patient.
+Landolin, however, felt that he must make some excuse for sending for
+him; and he asked to see the list of jurymen, so that he might
+determine whom to object to, and whom to accept. First on the list,
+which was in alphabetical order, was the name of the miller,
+Armbruster, who had been summoned in Landolin's place.
+
+The lawyer said that he had asked to be excused.
+
+"Hoho!" cried Landolin. "He is just the one I'll keep. Let him find me
+guilty if he dares! We are not related, and our children are no longer
+betrothed."
+
+The next on the list was the lumberman, Dietler.
+
+"He wants to be released too," said the lawyer.
+
+"He wants to be released? So do I."
+
+"But he will be angry with us."
+
+"Then you must see that the government counsel keeps him on. Then he'll
+be for us and against the other side. He has known me a long time. I
+had almost said ever since wood was cut."
+
+Landolin laughed. The lawyer smiled and looked at Landolin's wily face
+in astonishment. One after another he struck off all the city people,
+and the men of higher education. He wished to be tried by farmers. Only
+one man from the city, the host of the Ritter inn, who was a man ready
+of speech, was acceptable to him.
+
+"I won't have Baron Discher."
+
+"Why? He is a just man."
+
+"That may be. But he is an enemy of mine because I outbid him at the
+sale of forest land. You will see," said Landolin in conclusion, "Titus
+will be the foreman. He hates me heartily; but I know him well. I know
+that in order to make a grand impression on the rabble, and to give
+vent to his insolence, and to show me what a great man he is, he will
+say not guilty, and induce the others to say the same."
+
+The lawyer was careful not to shake Landolin's confidence; and he
+himself acquired new hope of a favorable result. As he was about
+leaving, Landolin asked, drawing his hand over his eyes and forehead,
+
+"Is the----Is his mother called as a witness?"
+
+"The government counsel was willing to do without her. I was surprised,
+but it was a good sign that he is not going to drive you to the wall. A
+poor, bereaved old mother makes a bad impression on the jury. He is not
+a bad man. He is, you know, a brother of your district judge's wife."
+
+"That won't help me any."
+
+"I think," continued the lawyer, "I think, the government counsel
+himself will recommend to the jury to find that there were mitigating
+circumstances."
+
+"I will not have them find mitigating circumstances," cried Landolin,
+his face reddening. "You may in my name, by my authority, refuse such a
+verdict. I know what that means. It is easy for a jury to say guilty
+when mitigating circumstances are tacked on; but when it's neck or
+nothing, they think twice before they speak."
+
+"Landolin, we are playing a serious game."
+
+"I know it."
+
+"Do you wish to address the jury yourself?"
+
+"I don't know yet. I am afraid I should make some mistake."
+
+"You can tell me your decision in the court-room. You have the
+privilege of speaking."
+
+"I never thought of it before. It's come to me since I have been in
+prison. If I had my life to live over again, I'd like to be a lawyer."
+
+The lawyer urged Landolin to try and sleep a little, for he had a hard
+day before him, and must husband his strength. He would try to be fresh
+and strong himself.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+
+Landolin tried to sleep, but he soon sprang up again. A man may sleep
+as much as he likes after he gets home, but now there is not a moment
+to be lost. He rang the bell, and very submissively asked the keeper to
+go for his son Peter, for he wanted to find out if the mother had come.
+
+"What mother?"
+
+"Oh pshaw! The mother of--of--of the poor fellow. Ask right out if
+Cushion-Kate is here. And tell my son to give you twenty marks for the
+saint's keeper."
+
+"For the saint's keeper? Where is he?"
+
+"Are you so stupid? Or are you only pretending? The saint's keeper is
+inside of your coat."
+
+The grim keeper chuckled, and said to himself:
+
+"And just think of people saying that farmers are stupid."
+
+He soon returned, and said that Vetturi's mother had not come, but--
+
+"But what? Not my wife and daughter? I expressly forbade that."
+
+"No, not they; but half the village."
+
+"Did the saint's keeper get anything?"
+
+"Yes," chuckled the keeper. The day had brought him a rich harvest,
+both from those who were seeking to be dropped from the list of
+jurymen, and had sought his influence with the different counsel for
+that purpose, and from the people from the neighboring villages, whom
+he had promised to let into the court-room before any one else.
+
+Landolin was again alone. He visited, in fancy, the various inns of the
+city, and the beer-garden near the station. He seemed to hear what the
+people said--how they could hardly wait for the time when they might
+see him in the prisoner's seat. Nothing is thought of to-day but
+whether Landolin will be sentenced to death, or to long imprisonment,
+or will be acquitted.
+
+Something that was almost a prayer passed through his soul, but he did
+not utter it; for he could not escape the thought that Cushion-Kate was
+to-day praying to God for his just punishment. He started back. It
+seemed to him as though she, herself, had run against him bodily.
+
+The prison door was unlocked. Landolin was led through along passage to
+the prisoner's waiting-room. The doors and the windows of the large
+court-room were open; bright sunshine streamed in; the room was
+empty---soon it would be crowded. The two keepers walked back and forth
+near Landolin. Loud laughing and talking could be heard from the street
+before the court-house. Who knows what jokes they were making! Men can
+still laugh though there is one up here whose heart would fain stand
+still. Landolin's eyes glistened. He said to himself: "After all I was
+right in despising the whole world."
+
+In the room in which he was now confined he could hear, as he listened
+at the door, the tramp of steps through the long corridor. He would
+have been glad to know whose steps they were. A confused sound of
+voices reached his ear. At length he plainly heard the words "My
+father!" It was Peter's voice. No doubt he had called so loud on
+purpose that his father might hear him. Landolin felt as though he were
+buried alive. He heard voices and could not answer them. His head swam
+so that he leaned against the door-post.
+
+The door was unlocked, and Landolin was led into the court-room.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+
+His eyes fastened on the floor, with measured steps Landolin entered
+the room. He seemed about to turn to the jury box, but the keeper laid
+hold of his arm, and motioned him to the prisoner's dock.
+
+When he reached it he straightened himself with a violent effort, and
+looked calmly around; but he must have felt something like a veil
+before his eyes, for he repeatedly drew his hands over them. He saw his
+son Peter, who nodded to him, but he only answered with a slight motion
+of his head. He recognized men and women from his and neighboring
+villages; but Cushion-Kate's red kerchief was not to be seen.
+
+He surveyed the jury with a keen scrutiny. He knew them all. They all
+stared at him, but no one of them gave him to understand, by so much as
+a motion of the eyelids: I know you and am friendly to you. The miller
+was not on the jury.
+
+Who is foreman?
+
+Titus. A red and white variegated pink lies before him on the desk. Now
+he takes it up and presses it to his large nose. The farmer of Tollhof,
+called the jester, who sits beside him, hands him an open snuff-box and
+says something. It is evidently, "Landolin is very much changed." Titus
+nods, takes a pinch of snuff, and sneezes loudly. The host of the
+Ritter inn, who is seated on the front bench, turns around, and says,
+"Your health!" and whispers something to the lumberman, Dietler. Who
+knows that the fickle host has not abandoned Landolin as a dead man,
+and commenced paying court to Titus! The other members of the jury are
+most all well-to-do, comfortable farmers--among them Walderjoergli's
+son, dressed in the old-time costume, with a red vest--have folded
+their large hands upon the desks, and look steadily before them.
+
+The solemn, impressive ceremony of taking the oath is over; the
+witnesses are sent out of the court-room; the charge is read. While the
+reading is going on, the counselor drums with a large pencil on a
+volume of the statutes before him. It may be he is gently playing a
+tune, for he keeps perfect time. He is a young man with a heavy
+moustache, which he smooths incessantly; and an unframed eye-glass,
+attached to a broad, black ribbon, is fastened on his left eye. There
+is something in the appearance of the counselor that suggests a
+soldierly combativeness, and, in truth, he is an officer of the
+Landwehr. The glance through the eye-glass, which sparkles strangely,
+is often turned upon Landolin, and Landolin is uneasy under it. He
+would like to say: "Please put the glass down," but he may not.
+
+Landolin's lawyer has risen to his feet, and leans on the railing of
+the prisoner's dock. His hands are thrust in his pantaloon pockets.
+Sometimes he turns his head and exchanges a few brief words with
+Landolin.
+
+The charge is manslaughter.
+
+The witnesses are called; and before the first one appears, the lawyer
+for the defense announces that he has telegraphed for the district
+physician, for the purpose of obtaining his professional opinion
+regarding Vetturi's frailty.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXX.
+
+
+Landolin sat perfectly still, and looked at his hands. They had grown
+soft and white in prison. Only when a new witness was called, he raised
+his eyes and watched him narrowly.
+
+The witnesses in favor of the accused spoke hesitatingly. They had seen
+Vetturi fall on a heap of paving-stones, but whether the stone that had
+been thrown had gone past him, that they could not say with certainty.
+The blacksmith, from the upper village, was the only one who was sure
+that he had seen it quite plainly.
+
+"Take care you don't commit perjury," called out the prosecuting
+counsel. The lawyer for the defense arose in great excitement, and
+earnestly protested against this intimidation of the witness. Even the
+jurymen put their heads together, and whispered to one another. The
+presiding judge said politely, but with marked decision, to the
+youthful counselor, that he must leave such matters to him. The counsel
+for the defense did not let this incident escape him; but made quite a
+point of it, and it was some little time before matters moved on in
+their usual quiet way. When Anton was called, Landolin's counsel asked
+to have the district physician heard first, as he was obliged to leave
+immediately. But the doctor's testimony proved to be of no importance.
+Then Anton was called, and all eyes were fastened upon him.
+
+The iron cross on his breast rose and fell, as he breathed deeply and
+rapidly.
+
+To the preliminary question, as to whether he was related to the
+prisoner, he answered in a tremulous voice, but in well chosen words,
+that at the time of the accident he was betrothed to the daughter of
+the accused.
+
+At this the government counselor moved that Anton should not be sworn,
+but the counsel for the accused insisted that he should be. The judges
+retired for consultation. They soon returned, and the presiding judge
+announced that Anton Armbruster was not to be sworn. He added, however,
+with impressiveness, that because of Anton's high character for
+honesty, he should confidently expect him to tell the truth, and the
+whole truth, with a clear conscience.
+
+"That I will do," said Anton. Every one held his breath, and Landolin
+clutched the railing of the bench with both hands. Plainly and readily
+Anton said that it was his conviction that Landolin had not intended to
+kill Vetturi. Still, he could not say that he had seen the occurrence
+distinctly. He had just stepped through the gate, holding his
+betrothed's hand, and had no eyes for any one else.
+
+He drew a long breath, and paused. The counsel for the defense asked
+him if he did not remember what he had said to Landolin, on his return
+from the unfortunate man's house. Anton replied that it was Landolin
+who had spoken, not he.
+
+With soldierly precision he answered each question, and ended by saying
+that it could not be imagined that a man like Landolin, that a father,
+would willingly kill a man on the day of his daughter's betrothal.
+
+Without looking toward Landolin, Anton returned to his seat, and when
+there, he did not look up. His eyes glistened, and his face burned.
+
+When Tobias was called, he came forward with long strides, bowed to the
+judge, to the jury, and most deeply to his master. He then said, with
+the utmost assurance in his manner, that he would not have believed
+that the good-for-nothing Vetturi, who was too lazy to lift a sheaf of
+grain, could have been able to throw such a stone; but as good luck
+would have it, the stone had fallen just at his master's feet.
+Otherwise Vetturi would have been sitting in the prisoner's dock, and
+his master lying in the grave.
+
+The government counselor tried to drive Tobias into a corner with
+questions, but he seemed prepared for everything, and gave smiling
+answers; and at last, even said pertly, that he, who had been there and
+seen it all, must know what happened better than the counselor.
+
+Fidelis was then called. Some discussion arose as to whether he could
+be sworn; as he had been Landolin's servant at the time of the
+occurrence.
+
+Landolin made a good impression by saying that Fidelis was a good
+fellow, and would say nothing against him out of spite.
+
+At these words of his master, Fidelis seemed disconcerted for a moment,
+but he soon gave his testimony, briefly and succinctly; that Vetturi
+had not bent over and picked up a stone, but that his master had thrown
+one, and that it had seemed to him that it would hit his own head.
+
+The counsel for the defense inquired if any one had spoken to the
+witness regarding what he had seen. Whereupon the government counsel
+rejoined that, if such questions were to be allowed, he should put the
+question whether Tobias had not endeavored to persuade Fidelis to
+testify otherwise.
+
+"Must I answer?" asked Fidelis.
+
+The presiding judge replied that he need answer neither question.
+
+The examination of witnesses was now closed, and a pause ensued, during
+which there was a final arming of the forces upon both sides.
+
+It had grown dark and candles were lighted in the court-room. They lit
+up first the judge's desk, then the jury, then Landolin and his
+counsel, and at last the spectators, of whom not one seemed to be
+missing; indeed their numbers had apparently increased.
+
+It was damp and sultry in the room. The battle began.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+
+The counselor's eye-glass glistened and glittered, but his speech was
+plain and quiet. He seemed studiously to avoid any approach to
+vehemence. He began with a strong statement of the unruliness and
+presumption which characterized the servants of the present day; and of
+their frequent dishonesty in the present instance. The jury nodded
+assent. He was sorry to say that the guilt of the accused was very
+plain. The pretext of self-defense he materially weakened, by showing
+carefully and clearly that the defendant had only hit upon the
+subterfuge as a last resort, when he could find no other. It was more
+than strange that the stone thrown by Landolin, which was bloody and
+easy distinguishable from others, had so soon been made away with;
+while the one said to have been thrown by Vetturi had been found, where
+no doubt it had been placed for that very purpose.
+
+At these words Landolin shook his head violently. The counselor paused
+for a moment, then continued composedly, that, as only justice should
+be done, he would recommend a verdict of guilty of manslaughter, with
+mitigating circumstances.
+
+When he had finished, Landolin leaned forward to speak to his lawyer,
+who rose and proceeded with persuasive eloquence to set forth the
+perfect innocence of the accused. When he depicted Landolin's
+uprightness and influence, Landolin cast down his eyes. It made a
+strong impression when the lawyer raising his voice cried: "Gentlemen
+of jury! The accused was chosen as a juryman for this session of the
+court. He should be sitting among you, and not here; and I expect from
+your straightforward honesty he will soon be with you, shoulder to
+shoulder; for he belongs with you. The one of you that feels himself
+exempt from outbursts of anger which, against his will, might result in
+an unhappy accident; the one that feels himself free from all natural
+faults, let him throw the stone; the stony word, guilty. By the
+authority of the accused, I refuse 'mitigating circumstances.' That is
+merely disguising the deadly missile. I call for the verdict 'Not
+guilty.'"
+
+A murmur ran through the mass of spectators, so that the presiding
+judge threatened to clear the court-room if such disturbance were heard
+again. In the profound silence that followed he gathered up the pros
+and cons, and laid them in the scales before the jury. When he had
+finished he asked Landolin if he had anything to say.
+
+Landolin arose and bowed. He moistened his dry lips, and began:
+
+"Your honors! Gentlemen of the jury! I--I am guilty!" Again a murmur
+ran through the room; but the judge did not repeat his warning. He was
+himself too much astonished at the words; and even Landolin's lawyer
+involuntarily threw up his arms in despair. The counselor's eye-glass
+sparkled more brightly than before, and his face had a triumphant
+expression. When silence was restored, Landolin continued:
+
+"Yes, I am guilty. I deserve punishment, just punishment; but not for
+that of which I stand here accused. I deserve punishment because I was
+so soft-hearted and compassionate that I did not prosecute the
+miserable fellow for his theft.
+
+"Gentlemen of the jury! You twelve men! It is terribly hard that such
+men as you should be taken from the harvest-field to sit here through a
+long, hot day! And why? Because of a miserable servant-man, whose life
+is not worth twelve hours' time, of twelve honorable men like you. I
+will not speak of myself, of my having to stand here. I only say I
+should not have been so tender-hearted. Through that I have become
+guilty of making servants ungovernable. For that, I deserve punishment,
+for nothing else. Should I have quietly allowed him to kill me? And is
+it likely that I, who forebore so long with him, sought to kill him?
+Was I likely to place my wife, and my children, my honor, my house, and
+my lands in peril for such a one as he? I will not abuse him; he is
+dead." Landolin's voice trembled. He seemed unable to continue. His
+counsel whispered to him: "Don't stop there. Say again that you are
+guilty." And Landolin cried again: "I am guilty in not having
+prosecuted the thief. Of that I am guilty, of nothing more."
+
+Landolin sat down, and covered his face with both hands. He seemed to
+be weeping.
+
+The judge handed the foreman of the jury the list of points for their
+consideration. They all arose, and Landolin was led to the room set
+apart for the accused. On the way out his son pressed his hand; they
+could neither speak a word.
+
+"Keeper," asked Peter, "can I go with my father?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"But I want to be alone," interrupted Landolin sharply, and the door
+closed behind him.
+
+"He would have let Thoma in, but he does not want me," said Peter to
+himself; and as other evil thoughts linked themselves to this one, he
+grated his teeth.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXII.
+
+
+The court-room and the long corridor were filled with people, eagerly
+discussing the expected verdict. Some thought it well-advised, others
+thought it fool-hardy, that the accused and his lawyer had declined to
+accept a verdict with "mitigating circumstances." They all agreed,
+however, that Landolin's speech was a surprise, such as they would
+probably never live to see again. There were some even who tried to set
+a money value on it, and asserted that they wouldn't have missed
+hearing the speech for such or such a sum. No one had dreamed that
+Landolin was such an orator and actor.
+
+During this time, Landolin stood at the open window of the prisoner's
+room, grasping the iron grating with both hands. The keeper brought
+wine. Landolin did not drink it, but he poured some on his hands, and
+washed them with it; then turned again and started out into the starlit
+night.
+
+Although he felt the triumph that he had gained by his last words, his
+knees were weary as if he had climbed over a high mountain, and now, as
+it seemed to him, he was compelled to walk over a grave, yonder by his
+home----
+
+A meteor shot across the heavens. Ah! if one could only believe that
+that is a good sign!
+
+The prisoner's room, and that in which the jury was locked till they
+should agree upon a verdict, were only separated by one thick wall.
+Have they been there long, or only a short time? From the towers of the
+city twelve o'clock was tolled. "Twelve strokes of the bell! The voices
+of twelve men!" said Landolin to himself. Yonder, through the black
+night, comes a monster with two red eyes, ever nearer and nearer.
+Landolin knows very well that it is a locomotive, but nevertheless he
+starts back from the window in terror, and sits down in a chair. Hark!
+A bell rings. It is not outside; it is here. The jury are ready. A
+heavy trampling is now heard in the corridor, followed by an unbroken
+silence. Landolin is sent for. With a firm step he mounts the stairs to
+the prisoner's dock. He stands still; for he is saying to himself:
+"They shall never say they saw me break down." He looks at the twelve
+men, but their faces seem to him to be swimming in a sea. Now, as
+though emerging from the waves, they rise. The foreman, Titus, lays his
+right hand on his heart, in his left a sheet of paper trembles and
+rustles.
+
+Titus first reads the points that have been submitted to them. Oh, how
+long that lasts! Why this repetition? Why not immediately say, Guilty;
+or, Not Guilty? Now Titus draws a deep breath, and says:
+
+"The accused is pronounced not guilty, by six voices against six."
+
+A blow is heard to fall on the statute book which lies on the
+counselor's table. His glistening eyeglass falls down, and twirls
+around on its broad, black ribbon, as if astonished.
+
+The judges hold a whispered consultation; and the president rises, and
+after reading the passages of the law bearing upon the case, says:
+
+"The accused is not guilty. Landolin! you are free."
+
+Landolin sees gathering about him his lawyer, his son, Tobias, and
+several jurymen and old friends. He sits on the bench, nods silently,
+and tears that he cannot keep back roll down his cheek.
+
+"Father, don't weep; rejoice!" cried Peter. But in a moment a different
+cry is heard. The spectators had crowded noisily out of the building,
+and announced the verdict to the many people waiting in the corridor,
+on the stairs, and in front of the court-house. And now one could hear
+loud cries of "the murderer's released!" then yells, whistles, and
+threatening exclamations from the keepers and guards.
+
+"Wait until the mob has scattered," said the host of the Ritter, who
+was one of the jury, "you will put up with me. I have ordered a good
+meal to be prepared for you and your guests."
+
+Landolin had regained his self-command, and answered in a clear voice:
+"Yes; serve as good a meal as you can, and invite all the jurymen. The
+other six are not my enemies. I--I will never have another enemy in the
+world."
+
+"Father, I would like to give Titus a special invitation."
+
+"Do so. Didn't I say that for the few years I have yet to live, I will
+be nobody's enemy?"
+
+"And I will send a telegram to mother."
+
+"Do so, and say that I am all right."
+
+The electric spark flashes over the wire, knocks at the station of the
+little town where the stationmaster is still awake, and soon the
+brother of the "Galloping Cooper" ascends the hill.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXXIII.
+
+
+On this still summer night a current of fresh air streams through the
+valley and over the hilltops. The ripe blades of wheat sway to and fro
+as they draw their last breaths. All nature is silent, save the river
+which rushes through the valley. The men are all resting from the hard
+work of the harvest, to begin again with renewed strength at the first
+glimmer of the morning sunshine.
+
+Up the white mountain road moves a man who often presses his hand to
+his breast pocket, as if to convince himself that he had not lost the
+dispatch.
+
+In Landolin's house a light is still burning. Thoma sits at the table,
+and stares at the candle. Her features are changed by bitterness and
+pain, and the lips that once so sweetly smiled, so warmly kissed, are
+tightly compressed. Will those lips ever smile again; ever kiss again?
+
+Her mother reclines at the open window, and looks out into the night.
+
+"Mother," said Thoma, "you must go to sleep. It is past midnight; and
+the doctor thought that the trial would scarcely be finished in one
+day."
+
+The mother barely turned her head, and then looked out again. Is
+Cushion-Kate awake, too, thought she.
+
+Yes, she was awake, but she could not afford a light. Perhaps, at the
+same moment, she was thinking of Landolin's wife. "She has not deserved
+such misery; but neither have I; and I have no one else; nothing but
+this gnawing sorrow."
+
+Suddenly Cushion-Kate straightened herself. She heard footsteps.
+
+"Have you brought anything for me?" she asked the frightened messenger.
+
+"No! nothing for you."
+
+"For whom then?"
+
+"For Landolin's Thoma," he answered, pulling out the blue envelope.
+
+"Do you know what is in it?" asked Cushion-Kate.
+
+"I'm not supposed to know."
+
+"But you do know. Say, is Landolin sentenced to death?"
+
+"I'll lose my place if you tell anybody."
+
+"I swear to you by all the stars I'll tell no one. I have no one to
+tell. I beg of you, have pity!"
+
+"Landolin is acquitted."
+
+"Acquitted? And my son is dead! Ye stars above, fall down and crush the
+world. But no: you are fooling me. Don't do that!"
+
+"You have sworn that you would not tell," said the messenger, and
+hastened away. But Cushion-Kate threw herself on the ground, and wept
+and sobbed.
+
+In the meantime the messenger had reached Landolin's house.
+
+"Do you bring good news?" his wife called from the window.
+
+"I think so."
+
+Thoma hastened down the stairs with the light, and returned quickly
+with the open dispatch in her hand, and cried out:
+
+"Father is acquitted. Not guilty by the court."
+
+The mother sank on her knees. It was long before she could speak a
+word. At length she said, half smiling, half weeping:
+
+"He will sit there at the table, there on the bench, once more! He will
+eat and drink there again! Wait, Cooper! I'll bring you something. You
+must be tired."
+
+Thoma drew her mother into a chair, and then brought food and drink.
+
+"Yes; eat and drink," said the mother. "Why are you so silent, Thoma?
+Why are you not happy? Eat your fill, Cooper, and take the rest with
+you. Oh, if I could only give food and drink to the whole world! Oh, if
+I could only awaken the dead, I would eat only half enough all the rest
+of my life! He should have the best of everything. Praise and thanks be
+to God! my husband is free; it is so good of him to send word that he
+is well. Yes, no one understands his good heart as well as----Cooper,
+go to Cushion-Kate, and tell her that I will come to see her to-morrow
+morning. As long as I live I will divide with her as though she were my
+sister. Tell her to be calm, and thank God with me. It would not have
+done her any good if the verdict had been different. Go, Cooper; go
+now."
+
+The Cooper went to Cushion-Kate's. The house was open, but she was not
+to be found.
+
+In Landolin's house his wife said, "Now we will go to sleep. Thank God
+that your father can sleep again in peace. You'll see he will bring
+Anton home with him to-morrow, and everything will be all right
+again. Dear Anton certainly helped your father a great deal with his
+testimony. He is so kind and good. God be praised and thanked,
+everything will be all right again."
+
+"Everything all right again?" said Thoma; but her mother did not catch
+the questioning tone in which she spoke.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXIV.
+
+
+Cushion-Kate had hurried through the village to the pastor's house near
+the church. She rang the bell violently. The pastor looked out, and
+asked, "Who is ringing? Have you come for me to take the sacrament to a
+dying person?"
+
+"Pastor," shrieked Cushion-Kate, "tell me, is there a God in heaven? Is
+there justice?"
+
+"Who are you that dare blaspheme so? All good spirits praise the Lord
+our God. Who are you?"
+
+"The mother, the mother whose son was murdered; and the murderer is
+acquitted."
+
+"Is it you, Cushion-Kate? Wait; I will open the door." The pastor
+opened it, but Cushion-Kate was no longer there. He went to the
+churchyard, to Vetturi's grave. There he found her red kerchief, but
+she had disappeared.
+
+In mad haste, as though driven by invisible demons, Cushion-Kate ran
+through fields and forest, down to the river. There she stood, on a
+projecting rock, under which the water boiled and bubbled as though
+imprisoned. The whirlpool is called the "Devil's Kettle." Cushion-Kate
+leaned forward, and was about to throw herself in; but when her hands
+touched her head, and she became aware that her kerchief was missing,
+her self-control returned, and sitting down she said as she looked up
+to the sky:
+
+"Mother, I feel it again. I, under your heart, and you, with a straw
+wreath round your head, and a straw girdle round your waist,--that was
+the world's justice to the poor unfortunate. Mother, you are now in the
+presence of eternal justice. Don't let Him turn you away! And Thou, on
+Thy throne in Heaven, answer me. Tell me, why is my son dead? Why hast
+Thou let the man that killed him go free, and live in happiness? Thou
+hast given me nothing in all the world; and I ask for nothing but that
+Thou shouldst punish him, and all those who acquitted him. Let no tree
+grow in their forest, nor corn in their fields. Torment them; or if
+Thou in Heaven above wilt not help me, then he, the other one, from
+below, shall! Yes, come from the water, come from the rocks; come,
+devil, and help me! Make a witch of me. I'll be a witch. Take my poor
+soul, but help me!"
+
+A night-owl rose silently from out the darkness. Cushion-Kate beckoned
+to it, as though it were a messenger from him whom she had called. The
+owl flew past; a train of cars rushed by on the other side of the
+river. Cushion-Kate shrieked, but her cry was drowned in the clatter of
+the cars. She sank down--she slept. When the day awoke and shone in her
+face, she turned over with a groan, and slept on with her face to the
+ground.
+
+"Wake up! How came you here?" called a man's voice.
+
+Cushion-Kate opened her eyes, and drawing her hands over her forehead,
+she moaned out, "Vetturi!"
+
+"No; it is I, Anton Armbruster. See, here is some gin. Come, drink!"
+
+Cushion-Kate drank eagerly, then asked:
+
+"Do you know that he is acquitted?"
+
+"Yes; I have just come from the trial."
+
+"Oh, yes," cried Cushion-Kate, and she struck Anton on the breast with
+her bony fist. "Yes, you too are----. They say you testified that he
+did not do it."
+
+"Kate, you have a strong hand. You hurt me, but I forgive you. Kate, I
+did not testify falsely. I said honestly that I saw nothing that
+happened plainly."
+
+"And why was he acquitted?"
+
+"Because six men said not guilty. Come, raise yourself up. There!"
+
+The old woman rose to her feet. She held her left hand to her head, and
+her dishevelled grey hair fluttered in the morning wind. She looked
+around in bewilderment, and seemed unable to collect her thoughts.
+
+"Some one has stolen my kerchief from my head," she said at length.
+"Stop; it must be lying on his grave. Yes, he is in his grave, and the
+man who brought him to his death is free--I understand it all. I am not
+crazed. I know you. You are Anton; and your mother, in heaven, kept
+your tongue from lying. Thank God, you no longer belong to that family.
+They must go to ruin--all of them. The haughty Thoma, too. Great God,"
+she cried, clasping her hands, "forgive me! Thou art a patient
+creditor, but a sure payer. You need not lead me, Anton; I can go
+alone--alone."
+
+When Anton offered to accompany her, she motioned him back, and went
+through the woods, over the hill, to the village, gathering dry twigs
+on her way.
+
+For a long time Anton stood gazing after her. He would so liked to have
+hastened to Thoma, but he overcame the impulse, and wandered homeward.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXV.
+
+
+For weeks Anton lived among the wood-cutters in the forest, high up on
+the mountain. He was one of the most diligent workers, from early
+morning until nightfall; and he was rewarded by having in the log cabin
+such a sound sleep as he could not have had in his father's house in
+the valley. To be sure, the wood-cutters thought it strange that the
+miller's only son should devote himself to such hard work and
+privation; but they asked no questions, and days often passed without
+Anton's speaking a word. But he thought the oftener: How does Thoma
+live? She cannot, like me, find a new place for herself. She must stay
+at home, where everything awakens bitter recollections. Is she asked,
+as I am, by every one she meets, why our engagement has been broken
+off? And, like me, is she at a loss to know how to answer? Not the
+smallest lie escapes her lips, for she is honest and truthful. She
+demands that her father should confess what he has done, and submit to
+punishment. But, can her father confess what, perhaps, he has not done?
+
+It was plain and clear to Anton that he could not give a full account
+of the occurrence. And when he was called before the court, he gave his
+testimony strictly in accordance with the truth; for that the stone had
+not hit Vetturi, he had only heard from Landolin, as he stood at the
+spring.
+
+He wanted to go to Thoma, after the trial, and tell her this; but she
+had thrust him from her so unmercifully and unlovingly that he could
+not humble himself again.
+
+Does she not love him? Did she never love him? The perfume of the
+lily-of-the-valley, which was just beginning to bloom up on the
+mountain, reminded him of a blissful hour.
+
+Anton had gone down from the mountain to the trial; and after his
+meeting with Cushion-Kate, troubled thoughts filled his mind as he went
+on his way home. He said to himself that he would no longer hide in the
+mountain-forest; it was nothing but a cowardly flight. As he
+acknowledged this, the medal of honor on his breast trembled. Does
+Anton Armbruster fly from anything? He looked around with a fearless
+courage. He was himself again.
+
+"How many years did he get?" asked his father when he reached home.
+Anton had to tell him that Landolin was fully acquitted.
+
+The calm, thoughtful miller struck his fist on the table and exclaimed:
+"Well, that is----." He suddenly broke off, went to the window, and
+looked out. He did not wish to have a second dispute with his son; and
+Anton's composed manner seemed to him to say that he rejoiced in the
+verdict, and built new hopes upon it.
+
+"Father, I am going to stay at home now," said Anton.
+
+"That is right," answered his father, without turning round, "and you
+had better go to the river. We must send off a raft to-day."
+
+"Father, have you nothing to say about the acquittal?"
+
+"What difference does what I say make?"
+
+"Much, father--it makes very much difference."
+
+"Well, then, I will tell you. It would have been better for the cause
+of justice, and for the hot-tempered Landolin himself, if he had been
+punished for a few years. But, mark my words, he must now suffer much
+more for his crime. He needs now to be acquitted by every one he meets.
+If he had submitted to punishment he would be better off. He would have
+paid his debt to justice, and everything would go on smoothly and
+evenly. In two years he would regain his civil rights and his standing
+in the community. It was only a misstep. But how is it now? And I
+believe Landolin is not tough enough--how shall I say it--he is not man
+enough to blot out the sense of his guilt from his own mind, and from
+other people's. But, Anton, let this be the last time we dispute about
+him. I don't deny that I have no place in my heart for him; but we two
+need not, on that account, live in discord. It is time for you to go
+now."
+
+Anton went up the stream, and set himself busily to work, helping
+to bind the logs and planks together into a raft. He who saw this
+well-built man, handling the oar and boat-hook so energetically, and in
+his quickly changing attitudes presenting such a picture of strong,
+graceful manhood, would not have dreamed that he carried in his heart a
+bitter sorrow.
+
+As Thoma was estranged from her father, so Anton was estranged from
+his. Thoma and the miller were of the same opinion, with only this
+difference; that in Thoma deep respect for her father had changed
+into the opposite feeling; whilst with the miller, a deeply hidden
+hostility, or rather aversion toward the haughty Landolin had only come
+to the surface.
+
+The acquittal made no change in the miller's feelings, except,
+possibly, to intensify them; and perhaps it was so also with Thoma.
+Still Anton hoped that matters would change for the better; and he was
+continually studying how he could bring it about.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXVI.
+
+
+At the capital, the night following the trial was to be spent in
+revelry and carousal.
+
+When Landolin entered the chamber prepared for him at the Ritter inn,
+he pulled off his coat, and hurling it across the room, exclaimed:
+
+"There! I'm rid of it! I've felt the whole time as if I had an iron
+jacket on."
+
+In the great dining-room, where the table was already spread, he walked
+up and down in his shirt sleeves. The host said smilingly that supper
+would soon be served.
+
+"Are the twelve men all coming?" asked Landolin.
+
+"They were all invited, but they seem to have slipped into the ground
+and vanished."
+
+The first to arrive was Landolin's lawyer. He seemed far from being
+elated with his victory; and in Landolin's manner toward him there was
+by no means the same dependence and helplessness as before. Then
+Landolin had treated him as a very sick man does his physician; every
+word and every glance were welcomed as though fraught with healing. Now
+Landolin was an ungrateful convalescent, who has come to the conclusion
+that he has not been sick at all; or, at any rate, that not the
+physician, but his own good constitution has helped him through.
+
+"You are right," said his counsel, "you should have been a lawyer. Your
+last words turned the scale. It was a master stroke."
+
+Landolin accepted this praise as his due, and made no reply.
+
+"Call Anton! Where is Anton?" said he, turning to his son.
+
+"When I was sending the dispatch I met him at the depot. He went home
+on the freight train, which usually takes no passengers; but the
+conductor is an old comrade of his, and smuggled him on board."
+
+Landolin whistled, and walked hastily around the table, on which they
+were just placing the wine-bottles.
+
+"Landlord, bring in the supper. Herr Procurator, take this chair beside
+me. So, this is a different way of sitting down together. I invited all
+the jurymen,--all. I don't want to know who said guilty, or who said
+not guilty. I don't want to have an enemy in the world. If they don't
+come--all right. I've shown how I feel, and that's enough. Landlord,
+let the witnesses come in, and anybody else that's there. Be sure and
+call Tobias."
+
+Tobias soon appeared. To be sure he had just eaten in the hostler's
+room; but he wiped his mouth, as though he would say, "If it's
+necessary I'll do it again." So he sat down next to Peter, and fell
+bravely to work.
+
+The so-called common people who had testified now came in. This was, to
+be sure, no company for Landolin, but he could not do less than give
+the poor fellows a good bite and a good drink. He asked what the
+witness fee was, and when he heard how small it was, he said he would
+like to double it, but he dared not, lest it should be said that he had
+tried to bribe them. By this speech he sought to ingratiate himself
+with these people at no expense to himself.
+
+Tobias nudged Peter with his elbow, and laughed and drank. Peter cast a
+look at him as though he would like to tear him to pieces, then quickly
+controlled himself and joined in the laugh. His face wore the
+expression of a young fox who has just caught his first hare, and is
+feasting upon it.
+
+Among the guests were some who had been Landolin's companions when he
+was young; and they strove to divert him by reminding him of his wild,
+youthful pranks. Landolin laughed and drank immoderately. The lawyer
+did not find it congenial, so he slipped quietly away. Landolin's eyes
+often fell upon the empty chair at his side, but he looked quickly
+away. Suddenly he called out, "Take away that empty chair! Who the
+devil is going to sit there? Take it away! Away with it!" He jumped up
+and overturned it with such force that all the four legs were broken.
+
+"You oughtn't to do that father. Be quiet!" whispered Peter, sternly,
+and roughly grasped his father's arm.
+
+"Let go! I'm all right," said Landolin, quieting down. "Come, Tobias,
+come with me! Indeed I have not drunk too much to-day, but I have gone
+through so much that its almost upset me. Here, Tobias, let me lean a
+little on you. Good night to you all. I hope you will get home all
+right. I shall soon follow you."
+
+He went up to his room with Tobias, and as soon as he got there he
+caught tight hold of Tobias' arms and cried:
+
+"Be still! I won't hurt you. Not you! You haven't deserved it. Do you
+know what I long for? Do you know what I wish?"
+
+"How can I know it?"
+
+"I'd like to have one of 'em between my thumb and finger, like this,
+so--Hutadi! I'd like to snap and crack his arms and legs. I'd like
+best to get at Titus--or all of the six--they ought to have been
+unanimous--the cursed--"
+
+"Let me go, master," begged Tobias, for the grip of his hand was far
+from gentle; "and I advise you to keep quieter. You can say anything
+you like to me. What we two have got through together, can't be
+undone."
+
+The situation dawned upon Landolin. He, the farmer, was reproved by his
+own servant.
+
+"All right, all right," he muttered and soon fell sound asleep.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXXVII.
+
+
+It was almost noon when Landolin awoke. He prepared for his journey
+home, and paid his bill. It was very evident that the landlord had
+cheated him. He was greatly vexed at being taken in by this plausible
+fellow, but he did not want an open quarrel. The thought that, for some
+time to come, he must allow himself to be cheated without daring to say
+anything, worried him more than the loss of his money. He now wished to
+return home immediately, and enter the village in triumph; but Peter
+put off going until near evening; for he did not want his father to
+reach home until after dark; and when Landolin swore at the unnecessary
+delays, Peter said, coolly and meaningly:
+
+"Father, you will have to give up fussing and spluttering so. I should
+think you would have learned, by this time, to keep quiet and be
+patient. Yes, you may well stare at me. I am no longer the simple
+Peter, over whose head you looked, as though he didn't exist. I am
+here, and you and I have no secrets from one another. Self-defense is a
+nice thing, but--well I guess you understand me. Of course I have great
+respect for you. You drove the cart well, and Tobias and I pushed at
+the hind-wheels. The cart is out of the rut, and now we'll wash our
+hands."
+
+Landolin looked at his son as though another man were standing before
+him. Peter noticed it, and continued:
+
+"Yes, father, I've found out what the mainspring of the world is; and I
+know that it's all one what a man does. He can do what he likes, if he
+only keeps other people from knowing it. Am I right, or not?"
+
+Landolin was so astonished that he could not utter a word. Who dare
+speak to him in such a way? Can it be Peter! But something still worse
+followed; for Peter began again:
+
+"Now, see here, father; before we go home we'd better have matters
+settled. You are the farmer; you are the master. And before the world
+you may appear as you always have; but at home, in house and field,
+only my word must be obeyed. You may be sure that you shall want for
+nothing."
+
+"Where is Tobias?" asked Landolin, gnashing his teeth.
+
+"You needn't halloo so; I'm not deaf. I sent Tobias home before us; and
+I might as well tell you at once, that I shall dismiss him soon. He
+knows too much, and puts on too many airs. Moreover, I intend to send
+away all of the servants. I'm going to lay a new foundation."
+
+Landolin kept silent, but smiled. He was incensed at Peter's
+impertinence, yet he could not repress his delight that his son had
+become so fearless and resolute.
+
+"I could almost be proud of you, you have changed so," he said, at
+length. And Peter cried exultingly:
+
+"That's right. You shall see that I'll do everything right; and that
+I'll do the right thing by you. I find that we've been losing a big
+pile of money in speculation, but that's past and done with, and I'll
+say nothing more about it."
+
+Landolin kept his wrath down, and thought: "Just wait till we get home,
+then I'll talk to you differently."
+
+Father and son spoke not a word after this. A wagon was waiting at the
+depot in the city; and Landolin asked his wife, who with tears in her
+eyes came to meet him: "Where is Thoma?" He was told that she would not
+come.
+
+Landolin thought to himself: "I am acquitted, but my children----. My
+son wants to depose me, and my daughter will not even come to meet me."
+
+In the meadow near the station was an unfinished platform, and though
+it was twilight, the men were still hammering busily.
+
+"What are they doing?" asked Landolin; and before an answer could be
+given, he continued: "I remember, when I was a child, that a scaffold
+was built there, and a man beheaded on it. Beheading is not the worst
+thing in the world."
+
+"Oh! husband!" replied his wife. "What strange thoughts! Peter, don't
+you know what they are doing?"
+
+"Certainly; certainly. Next Sunday the soldiers have their
+celebration."
+
+As the wagon drove past the garden of the Sword inn, a number of ladies
+and gentlemen were looking down from the veranda. Landolin raised his
+hat and bowed, but no one returned the salutation; and, for the first
+time in his life, he tasted the bitter experience of stretching out his
+hand in greeting, and of finding no hand ready to take it.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER XXXVIII.
+
+
+No one had returned Landolin's greeting from the veranda of the inn. To
+be sure the judge's wife, who sat near the railing, looked an
+acknowledgment, but that could not be seen at the distance. More she
+dared not do, for they were having a full meeting of the members of the
+"Casino," a society or association of the people of rank in the city,
+which met the first Wednesday after each full moon. Several members
+from a distance were there; the Catholic priest; and the only
+Protestant pastor of the district, with his wife.
+
+The conversation naturally turned upon the monstrous verdict of the
+previous day. The corporation-attorney said that he was glad he had
+declined to defend the case. He could well imagine the surprise of
+Landolin's counsel when his client was acquitted. Of course, in such
+cases, a lawyer feels bound to make use of all possible dialectic arts
+and strategies, but still, when successful, he must feel the recoil of
+the gun.
+
+The school-teacher, whom but few knew to be the editor of the weekly
+paper, _The Forest Messenger_, complained in a disheartened tone that
+this verdict of the overbearing farmers would necessarily intensify the
+hate existing between the different classes; for the poor man felt that
+he had no rights. It was high time that the choice of jurymen should no
+longer depend upon the length of a man's tax-list.
+
+The attorney coincided with him, but went even farther, and asserted
+that it was an old prejudice of liberalism, that the ordinary mind
+could render a just verdict.
+
+The judge nodded to him, and he continued, somewhat vehemently: "I now
+understand the legend of Medusa. The uneducated class is such a head.
+If a man should look into its face, he would turn into stone before its
+horrid visage, so wild, so malevolent, so false, so furious. Our much
+vaunted German nation is not yet ripe, either for universal suffrage,
+or for the right of sitting on a jury. Indeed, since we have obtained
+what we have so long and ardently desired, the German wave in the tide
+of morality is sinking away. Our German people are not so great as we
+believed and hoped."
+
+The judge earnestly protested against this assertion, and insisted that
+although there were undoubtedly deplorable indications, still the wave
+was beginning to rise again.
+
+The physician, who still clung to the old ideal of his student days--an
+ideal always mingled with a profound hatred of Metternich--came bravely
+to the judge's assistance, by declaring that the influence of the
+profligate times of Metternich is still felt; for our people persist in
+the belief that everything that our rulers propose to do is wrong and
+tyrannical; and applaud when the law is evaded, or a criminal slips
+through without punishment.
+
+In conclusion the physician could not refrain from giving the lawyer,
+who, while he really had a contempt for the people, belonged to the
+so-called radical wing of the liberty party, to understand that his
+party was greatly to blame for the disorganization of the popular mind,
+by its carping depreciation of the great and good things which had
+actually been accomplished.
+
+The clergyman agreed that the foundation of all the mischief lay in the
+weakening of religious belief; but the schoolmaster was bold enough to
+assert that in the boasted days of unshaken faith there was much more
+wickedness in the world than now.
+
+The discussion was apparently about to be taken up with the subject of
+religion, which was strictly forbidden in the Casino. But the
+Protestant minister's timid, quiet wife, happily turned the
+conversation, by asking, during a slight pause:
+
+"Are there not more offenders who are undetected than are ever brought
+to justice?"
+
+No one seemed to care to answer this question, and the young lady
+blushed deeply at the silence that followed her words, but at length
+the schoolteacher took pity on her, and said, with a smile:
+
+"It is quite impossible to give an exact answer to your question; but
+it is probably much as it is with the aerolites. Two-thirds of our
+planet is covered with water, consequently two-thirds of the aerolites
+fall into it unnoticed; and of the last third, which falls on dry land,
+not all are found."
+
+This bright and skilfully devised figure led the company back into a
+more agreeable frame of mind.
+
+The school-teacher, who liked to deal in generalities, continued:
+
+"I would like to present another subject for consideration. It would be
+profitable to inquire in what different degrees, truthfulness, whether
+due to nature or education, is found to exist in different nations.
+This department of statistics would, I grant, be the most difficult."
+
+The problem was not discussed; for the stationmaster entered, and said
+that Landolin's wife had come with the carriage, and that Landolin was
+expected by the evening train. Again the conversation turned upon
+Landolin. The old district forester, who, until now had not spoken, but
+had been steadily smoking his long pipe, said in his strong, grave
+voice:
+
+"Nothing can be more pernicious than that the best and most universal
+belief, the belief in justice, should be shaken, or quite destroyed.
+Public opinion will and must rebel against the verdict in Landolin's
+case. The conscience of the people is still too strong and pure. But
+the very fact that the popular conscience condemns both him and the
+jury, undermines all stability."
+
+The forester had scarcely finished speaking when the train arrived.
+Landolin soon drove past. The company had risen from the table, and the
+physician stood beside the judge's wife.
+
+These two shared the noblest of vocations, and often met in their
+common work of aiding the unfortunate.
+
+"Do you think," asked the lady, "that the innocent young people, Thoma
+and Anton, can now be happily united?"
+
+The physician shrugged his shoulders, and she continued:
+
+"I was going to Landolin's house, but our hostess advised me not. But
+now I think it is time to do something, and that I can be of benefit to
+them."
+
+"You had better wait a few days, at least," counseled the physician.
+"You know a wound must bleed awhile, before it is allowed to heal.
+Besides, I am inclined to think that affairs have undergone a change.
+At first Landolin yielded an unwilling consent, now the miller will be
+obstinate. I should not be surprised if in the end the young people
+themselves----"
+
+"I think I can prevent that."
+
+With a polite bow the physician replied: "Faith is supposed to be able
+to remove mountains. I have great confidence in your faith. But hush!"
+
+The piano struck up in the next room. A portly, merry Catholic priest
+sang with strong tenor voice; and presently the young wife of the
+Protestant clergyman was persuaded to sing a duet with him.
+
+Joyous songs, sung by sweet voices, floated out into the moonlit summer
+evening, and all dissension and all misery seemed to be forgotten.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXIX.
+
+
+It was a source of vexation to Landolin that the people of rank of the
+Casino did not notice him; and as their wagon went slowly up the hill,
+he said to his wife, with unaccustomed tenderness:
+
+"We'll not concern ourselves at all about the world, but be happy in
+having each other and being together again. Nobody cares for a man as
+his own family does."
+
+His wife looked at him in astonishment, and her careworn face shone in
+the clear moonlight. She was not used to such affection from Landolin,
+and she had never known that he felt any need of sympathy.
+
+"Is Thoma ill?" he asked, after a little while.
+
+"No, only frightened, and angry about Anton. She goes around for days
+without speaking a word; but she works busily, and eats and drinks as
+usual. To be sure, she doesn't sleep as she should. I made her sleep
+with me; but she would not lie in your bed, and I had to give her
+mine."
+
+"Everything will come around all right now," said Landolin. For his
+part, he thought it strange that his wife, contrary to her usual habit,
+had so much to say; but he wanted to hear more, so he asked:
+
+"Has the prize cow a bull calf?"
+
+"Yes; coal black, with a white star on its forehead, and stout hoofs.
+Didn't Peter tell you that we were going to raise it?"
+
+As for Peter, who sat on the front seat driving, his sides shook. He
+was evidently laughing.
+
+Landolin, who had striven against the temptation, at last yielded, and
+asked:
+
+"How does Cushion-Kate get along?"
+
+His wife did not answer, and Landolin repeated impatiently, "Don't you
+hear me? Didn't you hear what I said? I asked how Cushion-Kate was
+getting along."
+
+"Don't scream so! You have changed very much."
+
+"It's you, not I, that have changed. Why don't you give me an answer?"
+
+"Because I have none to give. Last night Cushion-Kate was not at home.
+Early this morning she came back, and lit a fire for the first time in
+many days. She must have been at the grave yesterday, for the pastor
+found her red kerchief there, and sent it to her. Since then she has
+disappeared again; and her goat cries terribly, for it has had no
+fodder. The poor animal----"
+
+"What do I care for the goat! I don't know how it is--either everybody
+is crazy or I am crazy myself. Is this my forest? Are those my fields?
+To whom do these horses and this wagon belong? Say, am I crazy?"
+
+"If you go on in this way, you'll make both me and yourself so. For
+God's sake, don't torment us both! What do you want with Cushion-Kate
+just now?"
+
+His wife had scarcely uttered these words, when Cushion-Kate rushed out
+of the forest, and grasped the horse's reins.
+
+"Let go!" cried Peter. "Let go! or I'll drive over you."
+
+"Hold still!" said Landolin. "Kate! I mean well by you."
+
+"But I don't mean well by you. They didn't cut off your head. They
+didn't hang you. You shall hang yourself. There is your forest, with
+thousands and thousands of trees. They all wait for you to hang
+yourself on them."
+
+"Oh, Kate! come here to me," besought his wife. But Kate continued to
+pour terrible execrations.
+
+"Give her a cut with the whip," cried Landolin; "give it to me; I'll
+strike her."
+
+"No, father, I'll fix it," said Peter; and springing down quickly, he
+pushed Kate to one side; then, mounting again, he drove rapidly up the
+hill.
+
+Landolin's wife looked back, and drawing a long breath, said: "Thank
+God! she has sat down on those stones. Some one has come up the hill,
+and is speaking to her."
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XL.
+
+
+When they reached home, Peter cracked his whip loudly, and drove
+through the open gate to the house. A strange servant brought a chair;
+Peter helped his mother out, then turned to assist his father, who
+said:
+
+"Never mind! I'm still able----"
+
+He stood again on his own ground. No sound of welcome was heard, save
+the barking of the chained dog.
+
+The bright moon lit up the square yard, which was neatly paved, and
+entirely changed in appearance.
+
+"Who made these changes?" asked Landolin.
+
+"Thoma had them made," replied her mother.
+
+Landolin understood it. She desired for her own sake, and perhaps for
+his, that the place where the murder was committed should be no longer
+recognizable.
+
+"Again I say, God keep you, and I bid you most heartily welcome," said
+his wife, in a tone full of emotion. "May the years that are still
+granted to you pass in peace!"
+
+"There, there, that will do," responded Landolin. He went to the dog
+and unfastened his chain. The dog leaped up against his old master, and
+ran round and round about him, wild with joy.
+
+"That's a good dog," said Landolin. "Be quiet. You know me, don't you?
+They said my hands were covered with blood; but you don't smell
+anything wrong, do you? The only faithful thing in the world is a dog."
+
+The tears on his wife's cheeks glittered in the moonlight, and he said,
+turning toward her,
+
+"Go in first!"
+
+"No, you go first, you are the master. It was just such a night as this
+when we came home for the first time after our marriage; then you went
+first into the house. It seems like a wedding again."
+
+She held out her hand for him. He gave it to her, and hand in hand they
+went up the steps. As he entered the room, she sprinkled him with holy
+water from the basin that stood at the door.
+
+There was no one in the room but an old servant.
+
+"Where is Thoma?" asked Landolin.
+
+"She is in her bedroom."
+
+"Tell her to come here; that I have got home."
+
+"I called to her through the closed door, but she did not answer."
+
+Landolin seated himself in the great arm-chair, and his wife gave
+thanks to God that her husband sat there once more. She had often
+doubted that he ever would again. Landolin looked at her, and it seemed
+to him that she reeled to and fro, and that the room and furniture were
+all in motion. He straightened himself with an effort, went out on the
+porch, and knocked at Thoma's door. Nothing moved.
+
+"Thoma, I am here, your father."
+
+The door was unbolted and Thoma stood before him. In a constrained
+voice she said: "Welcome, father!"
+
+"Have you nothing more to say to me?"
+
+"You never liked people to talk much."
+
+Landolin took his daughter's hand, which she had not offered him.
+
+"My child, do you no longer love me?"
+
+"I should never ask a child such a question."
+
+"My child, I am a poor man; as poor as a beggar. Do you understand me?"
+
+Thoma shook her head, and her father continued:
+
+"I have sinned against you all, especially against you; but now I beg
+you to forgive me. Don't let me perish." His heart beat so fast that he
+could not speak another word. As Thoma still remained silent, he turned
+quickly away, and went with tottering steps to the living-room. He
+listened to hear if Thoma would not follow him; but he heard nothing.
+
+He looked at the table in the living-room, and asked:
+
+"Is that a new table?"
+
+"No, but Thoma had it planed because the holes were there."
+
+Landolin remembered having stuck the fork in the table.
+
+Steps were now heard. It was not Thoma, but the pastor, who came. His
+words were kind and comforting, but Landolin stared at him blankly.
+True, he saw him, but he heard him not; his thoughts were with his
+daughter, who was so terribly changed. It was not until the pastor
+mentioned Cushion-Kate, and said that she had grown wild and
+uncontrollable, and talked most blasphemously, that Landolin paid any
+attention to what he said. And when the pastor added that it seemed as
+if Cushion-Kate had gone crazy, he cried:
+
+"There are insane asylums for such people. She should be put into one.
+The town can pay for it."
+
+"That's not so easily done; the district physician will have to order
+it."
+
+Thoma had unexpectedly appeared, and brought in the supper, which she
+had had prepared. The pastor started to leave, but upon Thoma's and her
+mother's entreaties he remained. They needed a man of peace to bring
+quiet and concord. The meal-time passed cheerfully, and Landolin ate
+ravenously. During a pause, he asked: "Herr Pastor, is neither the
+young bailiff nor any of the councilmen at home? It would be no more
+than proper for them to call. They must have known that I was coming."
+
+The pastor seemed to find no answer, and Landolin's wife spared him
+embarrassment by reminding her husband that he had said that he would
+no longer concern himself about other people.
+
+When the pastor took his leave, Landolin accompanied him respectfully.
+Pausing before the house, the pastor said in a low tone:
+
+"Give me half."
+
+"Half of what?"
+
+"When you were in prison, did you not vow a hundred times that when you
+were released you would give liberally to the poor and the church? Give
+me half, or a third, or a fourth."
+
+"Herr Pastor, you're joking. It is too soon for me to joke with you."
+
+"If you change your mind, you know where to find me," said the pastor.
+As he turned away, Landolin looked after him scornfully.
+
+He went to the well and drank of the water that poured swiftly from it.
+As he wiped his mouth, he said to his wife who was looking out of the
+window:
+
+"Nothing in the world quenches my thirst so, and makes me feel so well
+and fresh as water from our own well."
+
+"Come in, it is bed-time."
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XLI.
+
+
+Landolin strove to think of something else than that which, against his
+will, forced itself upon him; and asked his wife after they had got to
+their room:
+
+"Is there nothing new? Hasn't anything happened all this long time?"
+
+"No; at least not much. The old Dobel-Farmer was so badly hurt,
+unloading a wagon-load of wood, that he died. Perhaps you heard of it.
+The government has bought the Dieslinger farm for a forest. The owner
+of the Syringa farm is married again. In Heidlingen they have a new
+minister. The former one tried to make his church Old-Catholic, as they
+call it; and the Improvement Society, as they call it, has laid out a
+new road near our forest. The superintendent, the good old General, has
+often been here, and asked after you."
+
+Thus his wife went on.
+
+"Who came to see you oftenest while I was away?"
+
+"My brother. But there were a good many other people who came to
+condole with me. I wouldn't listen to their pity, so after awhile they
+stopped coming."
+
+"Didn't the miller ever come to see you?"
+
+"No; not once."
+
+"That's just like a Dutchman. He won't go unless he's pushed. To-morrow
+I'll straighten matters between Anton and Thoma. I'll go and see the
+miller."
+
+"Don't do that. Don't try to hitch up so fast. You understand what I
+mean. You know when a man wants to turn a wagon round, or back his
+horses, he can't do it on a gallop."
+
+"Aha!" thought Landolin, "she's trying to be smart. Everybody thinks
+they're smarter than I am."
+
+As Landolin was silent, his wife continued: "Now, you go to sleep. I'm
+sleepy."
+
+The quiet did not last long, for Landolin tossed back and forth on his
+bed, and sighed and groaned.
+
+"What is the matter? Aren't you tired?"
+
+"Oh, wife, I can't make it real that I am not alone; and that the
+sword no longer hangs over my head. I see the counselor's glittering
+eye-glass on its black ribbon all the time. Indeed, you haven't your
+old husband any more. You have another--and I can't abide the fellow,
+he's so soft-hearted. I wish you would often remind me not to care for
+what other people think. They have forgotten me, and I'll do what I can
+to forget them. Only you must be very patient with me; but don't give
+up to me, and don't let me be so soft-hearted."
+
+The strong man wept bitter tears in the depth of the night, and called
+out, almost with a curse:
+
+"May my eyes run out if I ever weep again, as long as we two live
+together! I make this promise to you, and to myself. Others cannot
+embitter my life, if I do not embitter it myself. Yes, yes!
+Self-defense! Self-defense!"
+
+His wife lighted a candle, and tried to comfort the self-tormented man.
+He said, at length:
+
+"One thing more. Cushion-Kate called after me, that I must make away
+with myself--I won't do that, for your sake."
+
+His wife stroked his hand, wet with freshly-fallen tears.
+
+"I won't give people the satisfaction of thinking we need sympathy.
+Leave the candle burning; and then, if I wake up again, I shall know I
+am no longer in prison. Good-night, we'll go to sleep now."
+
+He slept until late in the day. His wife rose gently and went about her
+work, carefully avoiding the least noise that might wake her husband.
+She blessed every moment that brought him sleep and exhilarating
+strength and health.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XLII.
+
+
+Thoma was still in the harvest field when Landolin came into the
+living-room. His wife sat down beside him, and he said:
+
+"You can't think how different food tastes when one has to eat it
+alone, in prison."
+
+"Don't let your thoughts run back to that all the time."
+
+"Has any one been here to see me?"
+
+"No. But remember what you said last night."
+
+Yes, that was easily said; but Landolin could not help thinking of the
+people outside, and how it could be possible that they were not at
+least curious to look at him again.
+
+He looked out of the window. Heavily laden grain-wagons passed by, but
+no farmer, no servant, so much as gave a glance toward his house. The
+new bailiff came up the road, steadying the wagon with his pitchfork.
+He had evidently seen Landolin from a distance; for, not far from the
+house, he walked to the other side of the wagon, where he could not be
+seen.
+
+Landolin drew back into the room, and seating himself in the great
+arm-chair he drummed awhile on its arms, then went into the bedroom and
+pulled on his high boots.
+
+"You're not going out?" said his wife. He looked at her in
+astonishment. This questioning, this observation of all he did or left
+undone, was distasteful to him. He was about to say so to his wife, but
+checked himself, and explained that in prison he had worn slippers, and
+he felt like putting on his boots again, and going out.
+
+The cracking of a whip was heard in the yard.
+
+It was Peter on the saddle horse, driving the four-horse grain-wagon.
+Landolin went out, and met Thoma with sunburnt face following the
+wagon. For a while she looked at her father in silence, as though she
+could find nothing to say. Her look was severe and gloomy.
+
+"Good morning, Thoma."
+
+"Good morning, father," she replied. A milder frame of mind seemed to
+gain predominance as she looked on her father's care-worn face, but she
+threw back her head as if to shake off the gentle feeling. Now that
+father and daughter met in the clear light of day, they seemed
+unfamiliar--yes, almost strange in appearance to each other. To Thoma
+her father appeared smaller in size than she remembered him; and the
+self-confident, defiant expression of his face had become uncertain and
+timorous.
+
+On the other hand Thoma had grown stronger, prouder, more erect in her
+carriage; her eyebrows seemed to have sunk lower; and between them
+deep, narrow wrinkles had been traced. These are furrows from which a
+bitter harvest springs.
+
+"Good morning, master," was the greeting of the head-servant Tobias, in
+a confidential tone. "You will find everything, the stock and the
+fields, in good condition."
+
+Landolin only nodded. So Peter had not yet dismissed the head-servant;
+perhaps he will not do it.
+
+Landolin spoke to the servant who had been taken in Fidelis' place; and
+asked him, condescendingly, from what district he came, and in whose
+service he had previously been. The servant answered respectfully, and
+Landolin was reassured. Peter had evidently not announced that he was
+now to be master, and Landolin was almost grateful for this deference,
+which in reality was simply what was due to him. He went through the
+stables, and found everything well cared for. A maid, who was singing
+as she filled the racks with fresh clover for the cows, did not stop
+her song when she saw him. He looked at her in astonishment, and asked
+at length, "Why do you not speak to me?"
+
+"Because I've hired out to the Gerlach farmer, and the other two maids
+are going too."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Peter has dismissed us; but we would have gone anyway."
+
+Landolin went into the yard again, and while he unfastened the dog's
+chain and patted him, he said,
+
+"You'll not forsake me, will you?" He pushed the dog's jaws apart, to
+look into his mouth. "You must be happy! they have broken out my teeth.
+I can bite no more, and people are no longer afraid of me. Come; hold
+still, while I put a spiked collar round your neck. I must have
+something of the kind for myself."
+
+He went in and sat down in his arm-chair. The dog lay on the floor
+beside him. Strange! The chair is not so easy as it used to be--the
+seat is hard, the back too straight! But, notwithstanding this,
+Landolin forced himself to stay quietly at home. He felt sure that
+somebody or other would call, if only as they were passing. He
+frequently looked toward the door; but it did not open, and no one
+came.
+
+Finally, when evening drew near, he went out of doors.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XLIII.
+
+
+Only a few months ago a strong man had crossed this threshold. He was
+now changed, and the world was changed, particularly his own household.
+During his absence he had constantly thought how merry it was at home.
+And yet there was nothing merrier there than quiet, uninterrupted work;
+and he himself had always been a stern, morose man, before whom every
+one in the house, save Thoma, trembled. To be sure Thoma had always
+been light-hearted, and perhaps that was why he thought the whole
+household merry.
+
+With downcast gaze Landolin went up the road. His present frame of mind
+was the most injurious a man could be in, and highly improper for a
+farmer. He was irritable, and, as is always the case with irritable
+people, he was weak and helpless, and trusted to external causes to
+bring him new energy and incitement.
+
+As he raised his eyes he saw, at some distance, a woman with a red
+kerchief approaching him. Is that "Cushion-Kate?" Should he turn back?
+
+He called the dog nearer to him; but it was not "Cushion-Kate;" it was
+a stranger.
+
+See! There comes the "Galloping-Cooper." He was walking faster than
+usual, and as he hurried by he said "Good evening" carelessly, and
+without waiting for a response. Landolin stood still, looked back after
+him, and shrugged his shoulders contemptuously at the beggarly man, who
+once, if he wanted to borrow a log of wood for barrel staves, could not
+find submissive words enough. "Not another chip shall you have from
+me," said Landolin to himself as he walked on. He had now reached the
+bailiff's farm. The watch-dog rushed out at Racker; but as soon as he
+saw the spiked collar he fled. Racker started in pursuit of the coward;
+but Landolin called him back. The bailiff, who was sitting astride a
+block of wood, mending a scythe, must certainly have heard him, but he
+did not look up; and not until Landolin stood in front of him and
+spoke, did he stop hammering. Then, running his fingers along the edge
+of the scythe, to see if there were any notches left, he said:
+
+"Back again, eh?"
+
+"As you see. Down! Racker." The dog had been standing perfectly still
+beside him; and it seemed as though he visited upon the dog a fit of
+anger which something else had provoked. It galled him that the bailiff
+should speak so disrespectfully, neither offering to shake hands, nor
+rising; but he said with a forced smile:
+
+"I only came to tell you, and you may announce it generally, that I
+shall not be a candidate for councilman for this district at the
+election; and that I resign my office of judge of the orphans' court."
+
+"All right. I'll attend to it."
+
+Landolin stared at the young bailiff. Is that the way to speak to him?
+Must he put up with that? And not dare to get angry and give blow for
+blow? Yes, Landolin; you are no longer feared. Curb your passions, and
+learn to rule yourself.
+
+After a long pause, during which Landolin struggled against his
+indignation, he said abruptly:
+
+"Good by."
+
+"Good by," was the dry answer.
+
+Landolin walked away, and the bailiff went on hammering his scythe. But
+the strokes fell faster and faster; for he thought exultingly that he
+had treated Landolin as he deserved, for having brought scandal and
+dishonor upon the whole district. Had not Landolin acted as though he
+could still lay claim to something? "Now, I think, he'll know what his
+standing is."
+
+But Landolin only knew that the whole world was hostile to him, and
+begrudged him his life.
+
+"Good evening, Mr. Ex-bailiff." Thus he was suddenly accosted.
+
+He looked up and saw a rough-looking young man of sinewy make standing
+before him, and taking off his hat. Disordered, bristly hair fell over
+his forehead into the unquiet, black eyes, that wandered restlessly
+here and there.
+
+"Who are you?"
+
+"The ex-bailiff does not remember me? I am Engelbert, the shepherd of
+Gerlachseck. I have been waiting for you."
+
+"For me?"
+
+"You'll surely take me into service now."
+
+"Where do you come from?"
+
+"From down there."
+
+The vagrant made a motion toward the plain. "I had three years. If my
+master had been good to me, and had not prosecuted me----"
+
+"So you are just out of the Penitentiary?"
+
+The man nodded, and smiled in a confidential way.
+
+"And why should I, in particular, take you?"
+
+"Well, just because it is so. Of course, after this, your servants will
+have an easy time. You'll get a new set throughout, and you'd better
+have me to watch the rest."
+
+The veins swelled on Landolin's forehead, but he concealed his
+annoyance, laughed aloud, and called out in a commanding tone:
+
+"March! How dare you speak to me so? Off with you, or----"
+
+"Oho! So you want to murder another man. You can't finish me as quickly
+as you did Vetturi."
+
+He put on his hat and clenched his fists.
+
+Without speaking another word, Landolin went on, while the vagrant
+called after him with threats and insult.
+
+The evening bells began ringing. Landolin nodded, as if greeting the
+sound, or as though he felt they were calling him. He took a roundabout
+way, so as not to pass through the church-yard where Vetturi's grave
+was.
+
+The church stood open. Landolin took off his hat, ordered the dog to
+lie down and wait for him, and was just putting his foot on the
+threshold, when Cushion-Kate came out. She gave him a look that made
+him blench; then she caught the heavy church-door, and dashed it to
+with such force that it fairly groaned. And louder yet the terrible
+woman cried:
+
+"For you the church is closed. Raise your hand! Here, at the church
+door, kill me! You are equal to anything. You are rejected by God, cast
+out by men. You----"
+
+The dog had sprung up. His master quieted him, and the old woman went
+away.
+
+Landolin opened the door and entered the church. All was silent within,
+save the pendulum's measured tick, far up in the tower. A bird had
+flown through the open window. It fluttered about, affrighted, until it
+found the opening again, and Landolin was alone in the vast edifice,
+where the ever-burning lamp alone shed its light. No prayer escaped his
+lips. Rather, in imagination he gathered in the whole congregation, men
+and women, one by one, to their places. In imagination he took hold of
+each one, looked him in the face, and shook him--but what good did that
+do? They still hated him. Cast out, as a dead body, by the stream! Cast
+out. All the empty benches repeated Cushion-Kate's words.
+
+Hate of the God of whose compassion he had been taught in his
+childhood, grew within him. It is not true, and if it were, what good
+does it do for God to be pitiful, if he does not force men to be
+pitiful too?
+
+A sudden terror seized him, as though the roof were falling, and he
+left the church and went home.
+
+"Has no one been here?" he asked his wife when he reached home. She
+said, "No;" but he did not answer her question as to where he had been
+and with whom he had spoken. His wife's curiosity and idle questioning
+were disagreeable to him. She saw that he did not value her love and
+care, but she was patient. For she thought she was not wise and clever
+enough for him, and resolved to be very careful in everything she did
+or said. But in the goodness of her heart, the very next moment, she
+tried to talk to him and cheer him, and that annoyed him. For it showed
+that the past was still in her thoughts; and that he did not like. She
+took special pains with his supper, and said: "Eat heartily, now that
+you are at home again."
+
+"It does no good to wish that," he replied, "if it doesn't taste good
+of itself."
+
+He waited and waited for a kind word from Thoma, but her strict and
+cruel truthfulness forbade her to give him one. She was dissatisfied
+that her father, in his weariness, and the humility which he had gained
+by a violent effort, should be so indulgent with Peter. Day after day
+she saw him taking upon himself the sole control of affairs, and her
+father permitting it. Yes, he even worked like a servant, and seemed to
+take satisfaction in being tyrannized over by his son. Everything was
+transformed and changed.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XLIV.
+
+
+The determined, steadfast Landolin had become a coward. He despised
+himself for it, but that did not mend matters. His lips were always
+tightly compressed, and their bitter expression became habitual. Often
+he would stop suddenly while walking along. He felt that he must draw
+his breath: he was almost smothered by the thoughts that lay so heavy
+upon him. Then he looked around beseechingly, and went on his way. How
+rich he had been before! He had had an outstanding capital of honor
+with every one; and now, when he wanted to draw upon it, it was no
+longer there. Strictly speaking, he had thought neither well nor ill of
+other people, he was indifferent to them; but now things had changed.
+His power of thought had lain fallow; and now upon this fallow land all
+manner of weeds, whose seeds had lain unsuspected in the ground, made
+their appearance. He had lived and had had an acute mind, especially
+when an advantage for himself was to be gained. But now, it seemed as
+though he were half asleep. Stop! What are men to you? What do you care
+for this one and that one? What does one gain in life, after all?
+Plowing, sowing, and reaping. The forest trees grow, long after the man
+who planted them has become a clod of earth. Is it for this that a man
+gives himself so much trouble and thought? Yes--gives thought. That is
+what is hard for a man who, until now, has not had it to do.
+
+When the soul comes to a spot where harshness, and selfishness pass
+step by step before its eyes, then it is difficult for it to turn back
+and take another path. It seems as if irresistible forces drive it
+along the path of grief and bitterness, and yet all the while a longing
+to meet with friendship and responsive love grows stronger and warmer
+within it.
+
+Landolin felt something of this emotion, although he probably could not
+have given it utterance. But in the soul there is much that is
+unutterable, even for a far more thoughtful and meditative nature than
+Landolin's.
+
+The man who was formerly strong as iron, had become unnerved, and one
+could conceive of nothing which could happen to renew his strength.
+Perhaps Thoma's love could have accomplished it. Perhaps! Certainly, he
+said to himself. There were even times when he not only mourned that
+this love was denied him, but was yet more deeply grieved to see his
+child, his proud, beautiful child, bent with sorrow, and her life left
+waste and bleak. He had nurtured a pride and severity in her, which now
+threatened her destruction. In his distress he groaned aloud, and
+submitted to Peter's dominion as if to a penance; indeed, though
+Peter's boldness was so serious an offense, it often extorted his
+admiration.
+
+"He will some day be the man to trample the whole world under foot, and
+laugh as he does it. He will be more powerful than Titus himself."
+
+Landolin resolved to dissemble and play the hypocrite; to act as if he
+mistook people's malice for good will, and to retaliate secretly. But
+his pride was incompatible with success in hypocrisy. He was annoyed at
+his own lack of courage, he very candidly called it cowardice, but
+still that did not help him to regain the old fearlessness--the old
+pride. Yes, he had become over-sensitive.
+
+His walk had now brought him to the forest, with its overhanging
+branches. In other times how little he had cared for the noxious
+insects of the woods. He had not grown up with gloved hands, but now he
+shuddered at the caterpillars that hung in the air by their slender
+threads, as though they were waiting to drop down upon him. These
+caterpillars can be shaken off, but the world's malicious thoughts,
+that like caterpillars hang everywhere by invisible threads, cannot.
+
+Landolin was sitting on an old tree-stump, when the game-keeper
+approached, and addressed him in a friendly manner, expressing his
+sorrow that Landolin had had to undergo so much trouble. Landolin
+complained that in the short time, he had grown twenty years older, and
+suffered with a constant palpitation of the heart.
+
+Suddenly he paused, for he became aware that he was begging for
+sympathy. And from whom? But the game-keeper responded,
+
+"I know myself how a man feels the half hour that the jury are out, and
+he is waiting for the verdict of life or death."
+
+"How do you know about it?"
+
+"Have you forgotten my shooting the poacher? He had his piece leveled
+at me from behind a tree. Crack--crack. It is self-defense! There you
+lie," said the game-keeper, with a crafty smile.
+
+Landolin went home fortified. "It was self-defense. The court has
+acknowledged that it was, and it was so. I must learn to keep that in
+mind. I must."
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XLV.
+
+
+The summer night was mild and clear. A Saturday evening in harvest-time
+has a peculiar quiet, a premonition of the full day of rest after the
+six days' unceasing work.
+
+At all the farm-houses, far and wide, the people sat on the out-door
+benches and talked of the harvest; of how much was already stored
+away, and of how much was still standing in the fields. Then they
+talked of their neighbors far and near, and of course of Landolin
+also. They spoke pityingly of his misfortune, but with a certain quiet
+self-congratulation that they themselves were free and happy. It was
+almost like breathing, upon the mountain, air purified and freshened by
+a thunder-storm in the valley.
+
+Soon with weary steps they sought their beds; for in the morning young
+and old were going to the celebration in the city.
+
+Landolin and his wife were sitting on the bench before his house. Thoma
+sat at one side on an old tree-stump, where the men often mended their
+scythes.
+
+These three had so much to say, and yet spoke so little!
+
+"So to-morrow is the fifteenth of July," said Landolin. Thoma looked
+around, but turned quickly away, and again seemed buried in her own
+thoughts.
+
+The dedication of the flag was to take place the following day. One
+might imagine that years had already passed since the day when Anton,
+with his two companions, came to ask Thoma to be maid of honor. Thoma
+was unselfish enough not to think first of the pleasure and distinction
+she would lose, but she sighed sadly when she thought how dreary and
+sorrowful the day would be for Anton.
+
+"What do you think, Thoma," asked Landolin; "shall I go to the
+celebration, or not?"
+
+"I have no opinion as to what you should do, or not do."
+
+"Will you go with me?" said he, turning to his wife.
+
+"I would like to, but I'm not well. I'm so chilly, I think I'll go
+right to bed."
+
+Thoma wanted to go into the house too, but her mother refused, and
+insisted that she should remain with her father.
+
+Her mother went in, and Thoma felt that she now ought to talk with her
+father; but she couldn't think of a word to say. Every pleasant word
+appeared to her to be a lie, and the bitterness of her fate lay in the
+fact that there was a lie to contend with. It distressed her to pass
+her father by, at home and in the field, in silence, or with only a
+cold greeting, and now to sit so speechless, and force him to think of
+their trouble; but she could not do otherwise.
+
+Landolin said that her mother was more ill than she was willing to
+admit, and that it was evidently hard for her to keep up. Thoma tried
+to quiet his fears; but her words sounded as hard as stone, when he
+said, "But that is a matter where the doctor can help us."
+
+"And I know something that no doctor can prescribe, which would make
+your mother strong and well again."
+
+Landolin had to wait long before Thoma asked what it could be, and he
+explained that the joy which her wedding with Anton would give her
+mother was the remedy. Thoma said, in a hollow voice,
+
+"That can never be, no more than"--she stopped suddenly.
+
+"Well! No more than what?"
+
+Thoma gave no answer, and Landolin knew that she would have said--"No
+more than Vetturi can live again."
+
+A well-known voice suddenly broke in upon the silence which followed.
+
+"Good evening to you both!"
+
+Anton stood before them. Landolin arose and held out his hand. Thoma
+kept her seat, and wrapping both arms in her apron, said only "Good
+evening."
+
+Landolin made room for Anton beside him, and told Thoma to come and sit
+on the bench too. But she replied, "I am quite comfortable where I am;
+besides, I must go in to mother. She is not at all well."
+
+"You will stay here," said Landolin, in his old commanding voice. Then
+he explained to Anton that he would have liked to go to see his father,
+but--and it was hard for him to say this--he did not wish to be
+obtrusive; and so he waited for people to come to see him. He thanked
+Anton for his favorable testimony at the trial, and said, that he was
+glad that he had kept his conscience so clear.
+
+"When I saw you standing there so resolutely, and heard you speak so
+firmly, I loved you twice as much as before," he added.
+
+Anton understood what it meant for the proud and arrogant Landolin to
+speak in this manner.
+
+Hesitatingly, at first, and then in well-considered words, Anton
+explained that he had come to beg father and daughter to go with him to
+the celebration; that would show the whole world at one stroke that
+everything was all right again, and everybody would congratulate them
+anew.
+
+No word, no motion showed that Thoma had heard him. Anton continued in
+a tremulous tone:
+
+"Thoma, dear Thoma! You sit there as though you were frozen, but I know
+that deep in your heart, love for me is still burning. Thoma, for this
+once throw away your pride."
+
+"Pride?" said Thoma, in a low voice.
+
+Anton did not hear her, for he went on: "Thoma, you turned me away. I
+too am proud, but not with you. I have come back again. Show yourself
+as good and loving as you really are. Give me one single word--one kind
+word."
+
+Thoma arose.
+
+"I thank you, Anton. I thank you a thousand times; but I cannot. Good
+night; I thank you."
+
+"No! You shall stay here, and I will go," cried Landolin, as Thoma
+turned toward the house.
+
+"Anton, for my part, I am----But settle matters alone between
+yourselves."
+
+He hastened into the house. Anton and Thoma were alone.
+
+"You need not speak, Thoma. Give me a kiss, and that will say
+everything."
+
+"I cannot. Anton, 'tis hard for me to talk. I would far rather be dumb,
+and unable to speak. Anton, it's good and kind of you to come. But tell
+me,--you are honest--tell me, does your father feel toward my father as
+you do? Is it not true,--you can't say yes?--you are here against his
+will. Your father"----
+
+"My father honors and loves you."
+
+"I believe that. But, Anton, I can never be happy again, nor bring
+happiness to others. I beg of you strike our house from your mind. One
+blow will be enough to destroy it."
+
+"Oh! Your house still stands firm. Thoma, you were right. On that day I
+did not know what I saw or what I heard; but now that is all past.
+Thoma, I know you. Your heart is honest, and I cannot blame you for it,
+though it gives you much sorrow. Thoma, you cannot appear to be happy
+before the world, because you are not happy. Say, do I not understand
+you?"
+
+She nodded, suppressed sobs were heard, and Anton continued:
+
+"Darling Thoma! I tell you, you can and must be happy; and that without
+telling a lie."
+
+"I can't rejoice in stolen goods." Thoma forced herself to say.
+
+"I understand. I know what you mean. But your honor and my honor are
+not stolen. I beg of you, be good, be kind. I beg the wicked Thoma to
+trouble my good Thoma no longer. You exaggerate----.
+
+"Perhaps so. There--you may take my hand for the last time."
+
+"I will not take it for the last time."
+
+"Then I say good night; thank you a thousand times!"
+
+Anton tried to throw his arm around her, but she tore herself away, and
+hastened into the house.
+
+He waited awhile to see if she would not relent; but as all continued
+silent, a spirit of defiance awoke within him, and he went away without
+turning around, though he sometimes paused and listened to hear if any
+one were following or calling him. At length he disappeared in the
+forest.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XLVI.
+
+
+There is still merriment in the world; song, music, and laughter.
+Joyous, singing, laughing people drive along the plateau in wagons
+decorated with flowers and green boughs. They are seen and heard from
+Landolin's house; he nods to them from the open window; he is in
+holiday attire and has decided to go to the celebration, and take part
+again in the world's gayety. Turning, he said to his wife, who sat in
+the room:
+
+"Hanne, Thoma won't go; can't you go with me?"
+
+"I would rather you'd let me stay at home."
+
+Landolin would have liked to say, "If you are with me they will pay me
+more respect;" but he could not bring himself to say it. He had humbled
+himself before the humblest; but before his wife he could not--she had
+always been so submissive to him. He often looked toward Thoma and
+wondered if she would not tell him what had passed between her and
+Anton the day before; and if she would not go with him to the
+celebration; but she remained motionless and silent. He ordered the
+wagon to be hitched up immediately; but Peter said that the horses had
+worked so much in the harvest-field during the week that they would
+have to rest to-day: at most the bay mare might be saddled, but that
+wouldn't be wise. Landolin looked at Peter furiously, but he did not
+want to quarrel with him; for, as long as they did not disagree openly,
+it was not noticeable that the authority was no longer his. So he
+consented to ride, but soon changed his mind and said he would go on
+foot.
+
+As the church bells began to ring, he started for the city. "Won't you
+go to church, too?" asked his wife timidly. He answered angrily:
+
+"No! They have sung and prayed thus far without me. I guess they can
+keep it up awhile longer."
+
+This he said; but he thought besides: "They must treat me kindly before
+they can pray with clear conscience."
+
+"Won't you wait till afternoon? I have something nice for you," said
+his wife.
+
+"You are always talking about eating--beginning about dinner already! I
+have money in my pocket, and shall get myself something in town."
+
+His wife made no answer, but pressed her prayer-book to her bosom.
+There are no more good thoughts in the book than in her heart, but both
+are now dumb.
+
+As the bells were ringing for the third time, Landolin went down the
+road toward the city. A rider was trotting along after him. He came
+nearer. Landolin lifted his hat and said:
+
+"Good-morning, Baron Discher. I owe you an explanation."
+
+"I did not know it."
+
+"I refused you as a juryman, through my attorney. I know you are a just
+man."
+
+"Thank you."
+
+"I only refused you because it would be pleasanter for you not to have
+to sit on a jury in such hot weather."
+
+The Baron laughed and held the knob of his riding-whip to his mouth;
+then he said, "Good-morning," gave his horse the spur, and rode on.
+
+A presentiment of the reception he was exposing himself to came over
+Landolin. He wanted to turn back: there was no necessity for his
+presence at the festival; but he was ashamed for his family to see him
+so irresolute. Peter is, then, in the right in having taken the reins
+from his hand. He went toward the town with long strides. Gunshots
+echoed, multiplying themselves in the wood through which he was
+passing, for the dedication of the flag was just beginning in the
+church.
+
+Landolin moderated his step; indeed he sat down on the side of the
+road; he had already missed the chief solemnity, and could take his
+ease. The coach came up from the railway station. The driver asked
+Landolin if he would ride. Landolin was tired, and it was a good
+opportunity for returning; but he refused as if something drove him to
+the city. He laughed at himself as he recollected that in his childhood
+the May-meadow had been a place of execution. What can happen to him?
+He is acquitted, free, and in all honor.
+
+Now clear trumpet-notes sounded from the upper town. Landolin hastened
+his steps--not to miss the procession.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XLVII.
+
+
+Up and down the valley, in all the villages of the district, there was
+busy life on this Sunday morning. The children on the street announced
+to one another that they too were going. Not a few were exceedingly
+proud, for soldiers' caps had been given them; and many a father was
+persuaded into promising his son that he would buy him one, too. The
+youth of the whole district seemed to have caught a martial enthusiasm.
+The men of the fire-companies, in glittering helmets, gray linen coats,
+and red belts, assembled before the court-house. They formed in line,
+the signals were sounded; and they marched out, accompanied by an
+escort of men, women, and children. They stopped at the forest to put
+green twigs in their caps. The children shouted, the old people walked
+thoughtfully along, and the maids and matrons, in their Sunday dress,
+whispered to one another.
+
+As the little mountain-rivulets flow down to the river in the valley,
+so to-day, the stream of humanity rose, and flowed down the roads and
+foot-paths, to the May-meadow near the city.
+
+But there were few of the old peasant-costumes to be seen among the
+men. Military service and the railroads do away with that, and efface
+the many distinguishable differences between village and city. But in
+still another manner a new ground of equality is established. This
+marching side by side, and especially the election of the officers of
+the soldiers' associations and fire companies, bring about an
+equalization or readjustment of the former classification. To be sure
+the captain of the organization was the district forester, but Anton
+Armbruster was unanimously chosen lieutenant; and the son of the
+district physician, who was a merchant, and a member of the
+association, had cast his vote for Anton.
+
+Landolin reached the valley in good season. The May-meadow on which the
+procession was to disband, where tables were arranged, and a green
+platform put up for the speakers, was kept clear by the young pupils of
+the Gymnasium.
+
+The women and young girls, with their white aprons and gay caps, sat in
+rows and groups in the outer meadow near the forest, and some daring
+boys had climbed the linden trees, which to-day sent out a strong
+fragrance.
+
+"They are coming! They are coming!" was heard among the waiting crowd;
+and the music of the trumpets at the head of the column was drowned by
+the hurrahs which arose from the people on the hollow slope of the
+meadow, and in the trees.
+
+Landolin stood on the edge of the crowd, near the students, and was
+surrounded by a group of people who seemed not to know him.
+
+The procession drew nearer. The band struck up one of the national
+hymns, and all the people joined in singing.
+
+"Who is carrying the flag? Why, that is not the miller's Anton--where
+is he? I don't see him. He isn't there at all."
+
+These words Landolin heard from the people behind him, and a feeling of
+terror came over him. He had intended to walk by Anton's side, and show
+the whole world on what friendly terms he was with the man who was so
+highly honored. Now Landolin felt as though his protector had forsaken
+him. He strained his eyes to see if Anton was not there after all, but
+he was not to be seen.
+
+"See the lieutenant there. That is the son of the district judge--it
+was good of him to get a furlough to come to the celebration. Yes; he
+has inherited his good disposition from his parents; his mother in
+particular."
+
+Thus the people around Landolin were talking. Then he heard a person
+who had just come up say:
+
+"Do you know why Anton Armbruster did not come? He is ashamed, though
+he hasn't done anything to be ashamed of; but Landolin, whose acquittal
+was such an atrocity, was to be his father-in-law. Aha! There stands
+Landolin himself! That man there with the broad back, that's he."
+
+Landolin's broad back moved. The cordon of students was broken, and he
+found himself in the midst of the festivities.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XLVIII.
+
+
+High up in the mountain forest, near the log-hut where the woodcutters
+lived from Monday morning till Saturday night, Anton sat this Sunday
+morning. About him lay axes, and wedges of iron or ash, as if resting
+themselves. For the men who used them had all gone down to the valley
+to spend the Sunday at home with their families, or perhaps at the
+celebration in the city. No sound was heard save the occasional twitter
+of the wren who was just brooding. All the other birds were mute, and
+the hawks circled in silence over the treetops. A drowsy odor of pitch
+from the felled trees and split wood rose from the ground on which the
+weary, tried young man had slept. A cannon thundered, and Anton awoke
+and felt at his side for his gun. He imagined for a moment that he was
+lying in the field before the enemy; but he smiled sadly as he
+reflected that the enemy he had to combat was no visible one, who could
+be mortally wounded. It was not a cannon which had awakened him, but a
+mortar from the city, where the flag was being dedicated. Anton drew a
+deep breath and his face lighted up as though he were being greeted by
+hundreds and hundreds of his old comrades, as though he held the many
+faithful hands that were stretched out toward him. But he soon looked
+sadly down before him. He had not only destroyed the celebration for
+himself, but had robbed his companions of a great part of their
+pleasure, by sending a messenger early in the morning to say he could
+not be with them. What did his companions' love profit him, when the
+love of the one for whom his heart beat was wanting? What did he care
+for a joy or an honor that Thoma did not share?
+
+He stood up. There is yet time. He can yet hasten to join his comrades,
+and though late, he will be gladly welcomed. He rejected the thought,
+and gave himself up to painful questionings and fancies. Would he find
+happiness in anything again? He had humbled himself before Thoma, and
+she had scornfully spurned him. He had done what he could to set
+matters right again. Perhaps Thoma will be softened when she sees that
+for her sake he avoids the most enticing pleasures. She knows what he
+suffers, but what must she suffer!
+
+Thoma was not in the solitude of the forest, she was solitary and
+forsaken in her father's house. She, too, heard the report of the
+mortar, and she asked herself if Anton was at the celebration, honored
+and happy. No, it cannot be. She mourned deeply that she had been
+forced to destroy and fill with sadness this day, and all the coming
+days of his life. She remembered in terror that she had yesterday said
+to Anton: "I cannot rejoice in stolen goods." Is it then so hopeless?
+Had not the words escaped unguardedly from the depth of sorrow? She
+almost envied her mother, who could sleep all day long. She must stay
+awake, and harbor such bitter thoughts in her soul.
+
+What will happen to her father at the celebration? Will he, rebuffed on
+all sides, allow himself to be drawn into committing a new crime? With
+folded hands, staring fixedly before her, Thoma sat in her bed-room,
+till at last her heavy heart was lightened by a flood of tears.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XLIX.
+
+
+Thoma was not curious to learn why Peter was talking with his mother so
+long, nor would it have given her pleasure had she known, for he
+whispered:
+
+"Mother, hereafter you mustn't let father roam around the world this
+way, and I'll help you keep him at home. We've helped him through, and
+that's enough. He must be quiet now, and not keep people gaping at
+him."
+
+The mother looked at Peter sadly, as though looking at a stranger.
+Peter understood the look to mean something quite different, and
+continued confidingly:
+
+"We've got the upper hand now, mother; but we won't make a noise about
+it. Before, you weren't accounted anybody; neither was I. 'Twas always
+the farmer and Thoma; we two were never spoken of. Now help me. You can
+do it smoothly as a wife can, and I'll be quiet about it too. Not a
+soul shall notice that I control the farm. But, on the other hand, you
+must see to it that he doesn't roam around any more. Of course he's
+told you that he lost a great deal of money in stocks. However, that's
+past and over with. We won't say a word of reproach to him about it,
+but I'll guarantee that he shan't squander any more."
+
+"Is our whole house bewitched?" said the mother, speaking her thoughts
+aloud--"Is our house no longer a home? Where shall I go?"
+
+"Mother, you mustn't talk so, nor look at it that way. I am here, and
+you shall see what I'll do. Good fortune has followed us for your sake.
+Wherever I've been, people say, 'Yes certainly, Landolin must be helped
+out of his trouble, for Johanna's sake.'"
+
+"Not for my sake," exclaimed his mother. "Your father is innocent, and
+he proved himself so; nothing is due to me."
+
+"Of course not, and everything is all right. And besides, now let me
+tell you something. That Tobias is an unfaithful rascal. I shall only
+keep him through harvest; then I'll send him away. He may claim that it
+was he who lied father out of the scrape, but that won't help him; on
+the contrary he must learn that we don't fear him. Father was acquitted
+at the trial, and no appeal can be taken from that. I asked the
+lawyer."
+
+After an astonished silence his mother asked,
+
+"What did you say? Your father is no longer master?"
+
+"Yes, mother; don't you think I've managed it cleverly? Not even you
+have noticed it. He thought, too, that I ought to keep Tobias; but I
+know better."
+
+The mother and son sat a long time together in silence; but at length
+she said, "Take the wagon and go to meet your father. I feel as though
+something would happen to him; I am so frightened."
+
+"Very well, mother, I will do as you say. I'll go, but I don't know
+whether I can find him or not."
+
+"Yes, go, for heaven's sake, and be a good boy. I will try and get a
+little sleep."
+
+Peter went; but he soon turned down an alley to a tavern where they
+were rolling ten-pins. Here he enjoyed himself highly, winning a good
+sum of money from the woodcutters of the upper forest, and from some
+half-grown boys; for Peter was an adept at ten-pins.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER L.
+
+
+Landolin was suddenly in the midst of the crowded meadow, and the first
+person that he hit against was the one-handed man who had been his
+substitute in the army.
+
+"Come here, I'll give you something," said Landolin, putting his hand
+into his pocket. The one-handed man hesitated to reach out his left
+hand, but at length he did it; for he couldn't bear to refuse a gift,
+although he was earning good wages, especially just now; for Anton had
+bought him some pictures of the heroes of our day, which he was hawking
+about, and he well understood the art of praising his wares. Titus
+watched Landolin as he gave the man something, and their eyes met, but
+neither greeted the other. Titus was of the opinion that Landolin
+should speak to him first in a very humble manner; and Landolin
+expected the man of unsullied honor to make the first advances.
+
+Landolin saw Fidelis. The servant who had formerly been in his employ,
+passed by as though he didn't know him; perhaps he was annoyed that his
+master had been acquitted notwithstanding his damaging testimony.
+Landolin was inclined to speak to him and be friendly, but he heard
+Titus call him (for Fidelis was now in his service) and say: "Enjoy
+yourself as much as you can--your honor is without a stain--and I will
+pay for what you eat."
+
+The maids of honor with wreaths on their heads went past, walking arm
+in arm. Their number had evidently been increased. They were the
+daughters of the district forester, of Titus, and of another farmer;
+but what would they all have been beside Thoma, had she been there?
+
+The men shook hands and congratulated one another upon the pleasant day
+and the fine celebration. Landolin rubbed his cold hands--no one had
+touched his hand--was there blood sticking on it? Had he not been
+acquitted?
+
+"What can be the matter with Anton Armbruster? What has kept him from
+coming?... The best part is wanting when he is away.... Thoma wouldn't
+let him come to the celebration.... No, their engagement is broken
+off.... I'll tell you; Anton is ashamed of Landolin, whose acquittal
+was such an atrocity. Look! There he goes now."
+
+Such, and still more biting words Landolin heard from every group, as
+he went around like one risen from the dead, with whom no one would
+have anything to do. "I have not deserved this, not this----" said
+Landolin, angry and at the same time sad. His eyes burned as they
+sought a friendly glance. He not only felt that all the people at the
+celebration disliked him because of what he had done, and delighted to
+wound him by ignoring his presence, but he also saw plainly that they
+were particularly angry at him, because on his account Anton was
+absent. Here, at the very place where, on the day of the fair, he had
+vaingloriously boasted that he considered Anton of lower station than
+himself--here he was made to hear how universally the man whom he might
+have called son was beloved and honored.
+
+Landolin turned to go. Why should he stay? But "Hush! Stand still!" was
+heard from all sides; for a trumpet sounded, and the district forester
+mounted the platform. He said that Anton Armbruster had been selected
+to welcome their friends and comrades.
+
+Cries of "Hurrah for Anton!" arose here and there; but silence was
+commanded, and the forester, in simple words, welcomed the guests, and
+explained the significance of the celebration. He said he intended to
+be brief, for hungry stomachs do not like to be fed with words; and he
+concluded with a cheer for the Fatherland.
+
+"To dinner! To dinner!" was now the cry. The tables were soon crowded,
+while the band played lively airs. Titus sat at a table with the other
+rich farmers. Landolin took a chair, and saying, "With your leave," sat
+down with them.
+
+"So, Mr. Ex-bailiff, you here too?" Landolin heard himself addressed,
+and turning around, saw Engelbert, the shepherd of Gerlachseck, who had
+wanted to hire out to him. He now wore a large white apron, for the
+hostess of the Sword had engaged him as an assistant for the day.
+Landolin did not answer.
+
+His companions at table ate and drank heartily, and talked loudly, but
+no one spoke a word to Landolin, until at length Titus said: "Well, how
+is it, Landolin? I hear you're going to sell your farm. If that's so,
+I'm a purchaser. I'll pay a good price. You can have a valuation put on
+it."
+
+"Who said that I was going to sell?"
+
+"Oh, it's generally reported that you're going to leave the
+neighborhood."
+
+"If I knew who started that story, I'd pull his tongue out of his
+throat."
+
+"I wouldn't do that," laughed Titus; "you certainly ought to know that
+that isn't a good plan."
+
+"'Twas you," cried Landolin, "that started it--you!"
+
+Titus gave no answer, but got up and walked away; the others soon
+followed him, and Landolin was left alone at the table.
+
+Music filled the air. There was dancing; and during the intervals
+people laughed and sang, and made merry, while Landolin struggled with
+rage and sorrow. Are these people here all snow-white innocents? Are
+there not dozens of them who have much worse things on their
+conscience?
+
+He wished that he had power to rush in and crush everything under foot.
+
+At other times a sadness came over him, and he thought: "Were I only in
+prison, or, better still, not in the world at all."
+
+But lest he should show his emotion, he leaned back, lighted his pipe,
+and smoked with a defiant look on his face. "They shall not succeed in
+making me eat humble pie."
+
+At that moment merry laughter arose from the table where the people of
+rank were sitting. "What does that mean? Are the great folks rejoicing
+over my misfortune? No, that cannot be, for there sits the judge's
+wife, with her son, the lieutenant."
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER LI.
+
+
+At this table, which was spread with a white linen cloth, and decorated
+with vases of flowers, the school-teacher was just saying:
+
+"Yes, Madam Pfann, that is the hardest riddle hidden in the whole
+history of man. Why can nothing but a myth or a people's war move the
+souls of the masses? In a war the souls of nations see one another, if
+one may say so, face to face."
+
+He paused in the midst of his dissertation; for the lieutenant said in
+a clear voice:
+
+"The Frenchmen literally took us for cannibals. In a village near
+Orleans, I went to a house and called; there was no answer. Presently I
+saw a woman, sitting on top of the brick oven; I spoke to her
+pleasantly, but she remained dumb, until, at last, I asked where the
+children were. She looked at me in terror; and I said, laughing: 'Bring
+me one, and roast it well. I want to eat it.' Then the woman laughed
+too, and let the children out of the oven, where she had really hidden
+them."
+
+It was at this they had laughed so loud, at the great folk's table.
+They were all pleased with the lieutenant, whose former wild boyishness
+had changed to dignified composure. The eyes of the judge's wife danced
+with a mother's pride; and if she was always thoughtful of comforting
+and helping others, to-day she would have been glad to have poured joy
+upon every one. But to-day no one needed her, for there was joy and
+happiness everywhere. Just then she saw Landolin, and said:
+
+"There sits the farmer of Reutershoefen all alone."
+
+"It is well," said the district forester, "that the people are still
+strong-hearted and straight-forward enough to cast out a man who was
+unjustly acquitted."
+
+"Wolfgang, come with me," said the judge's wife, rising; and taking her
+son's arm, she went to Landolin's table. She said to her son that she
+would remain there, and that he might join his comrades; and giving her
+hand to Landolin, she sat down beside him, asked after his wife and
+daughter--people never asked after Peter--and promised to visit them
+soon. She also intimated that she hoped to be able to straighten out
+the difficulty with Anton. Landolin told her, composedly, that Anton
+had visited them the evening before, but that Thoma had refused him,
+and that was probably the cause of his staying away from the
+celebration.
+
+"Had I known that, I should not have come either," he concluded; and
+the lady discovered what suffering he must that day have undergone; and
+with the most sympathetic expression of voice and countenance, she
+said:
+
+"Ex-bailiff, I have some good advice for you."
+
+"Good advice? that is always useful."
+
+"I think you ought to go away with Thoma for a few weeks. Go to a
+bathing place. It will do you good."
+
+"I'm not sick. There is nothing the matter with me. I didn't know that
+our judge's wife was a doctor, too."
+
+"You understand what I mean."
+
+"I'm sorry I'm so stupid, but I don't understand you."
+
+"Then I must speak plainly. Do you think that I desire your welfare?"
+
+"Yes, certainly; why not?"
+
+"You ought to go away a few weeks, and when you come back matters will
+be in a better condition. Other things will have happened in the
+meantime, and----You may believe me it would be well."
+
+Landolin shook his head, and said after a long silence: "I know you
+mean thoroughly well; of course you do; but I shall not stir from this
+spot. I'll stay, if only to fool the rest of them. Already the
+honorable Titus--the hypocrite!--has been trying to spread the rumor
+that I am going to sell my farm. I'll stay here and cry fie upon the
+whole country. We have owned our farm for hundreds and hundreds of
+years. You can ask Walderjoergli; he will testify."
+
+"I believe your word alone," said the judge's wife; Landolin nodded
+well pleased, for it did him good to be so readily believed, and he
+continued, in a clear voice:
+
+"Yes, madame, we farmers are not so easily displaced as the----people
+of rank. We at Reutershoefen are a strong stock; people may dig as much
+as they choose at the roots; they will not bring it down."
+
+All his pride arose; his sunken face became full; his form seemed to
+grow larger. The judge's wife did not know what more to say; and she
+would have been heard no longer, for a thousand voices cried:
+
+"Walderjoergli! The Master of Justice! Walderjoergli!"
+
+The cry spread, the girls and children on the further meadow took it
+up; crying, "Walderjoergli!"
+
+A man appeared, who stood head and shoulders above all who surrounded
+him. His head was covered with soft, snow-white hair; his snow-white
+beard fell far down to his breast, and his face, with its heavy
+contracted brows and its large nose, looked as if chiseled with an axe.
+
+"Hutadi! Hutadi!" screamed Landolin, springing up as if in a frenzy,
+and dashing into the crowd. "Hutadi!" he screamed, stretching out his
+arms, and clenching his fist in Titus' face.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER LII.
+
+
+"Be quiet, Landolin! The time for that has gone by," said Walderjoergli
+in a commanding tone; and laid his broad hand between the combatants.
+They stood still; but their chests heaved, and they looked down at the
+ground like chidden boys.
+
+The ancient cry of defiance, "Hutadi!"--no one knows exactly what it
+means; probably 'Beware' or 'Take care of yourself'--was formerly
+regarded as a challenge which no one could refuse. When it rang out,
+whether from forest or from meadow, whoever heard it must give battle
+to him who called.
+
+In his youth, Walderjoergli had been considered the readiest and most
+powerful of combatants; but in his riper years he had become one of the
+most even-tempered and circumspect of men, so that he was elected
+Master of Justice for the forest republic in the mountain; which, as an
+independent peasant state, acknowledged no lord but the emperor.
+
+Joergli settled lawsuits, decreed punishments, and in conjunction with
+the council, apportioned the taxes; and all without appeal.
+
+Joergli was the only survivor of that last embassy which the forest
+peasants sent to the emperor at Vienna, to protest against being made
+subject to any prince. They desired to remain a free peasantry of the
+empire. Joergli insisted that he was ninety-three years of age, but it
+was universally believed that he was already over a hundred; for the
+church registers had been burned with the church and parsonage in
+Napoleon's time.
+
+The thought flashed through Landolin's mind that Walderjoergli could,
+with one stroke, reinstate him in all his old honor; so he said:
+
+"From you, Master of Justice, I am glad to receive commands. All
+reverence is due you; and besides, you were my grandfather's dearest
+friend."
+
+He laid his hand on his heart, and hoped that Walderjoergli would grasp
+it; but the old man looked sternly at him from under his bushy,
+snow-white brows, and said:
+
+"How is your wife?"
+
+Landolin could scarcely answer. What did this mean? His health was not
+asked after! Had his wife then suddenly acquired any peculiar
+distinction? Did the old man ask after her only to avoid asking after
+Landolin's own health?
+
+He stammered out an answer; and the old man sent a greeting by him to
+his wife, who was "a good, honest housewife." Landolin smiled. If
+nothing is given him, still it's well that one of his family gets
+something, for then he too has a share in it.
+
+Landolin informed the bystanders that Walderjoergli's family and his own
+were the oldest in the country, for theirs had been the only two farmer
+families that had survived the war with Sweden. While he was talking,
+he noticed that nobody listened to him; but he went on, and finished
+what he was saying with his eyes fixed on the ground.
+
+The judge's wife had approached, and Titus gained an advantage by
+introducing her, and saying:
+
+"This is the benefactress of the whole neighborhood."
+
+Joergli took the lady's delicate hand in his large one, and said:
+
+"I've heard of you before. You are a noble woman; it is well. In old
+times women were not of so much account as they are now. But it is
+quite right now. And is that your son? Did you not once come to see me
+when you were a student? You have behaved yourself nobly."
+
+He clapped the lieutenant on the shoulder, and every one was astonished
+that Walderjoergli still talked so well, and knew everything that was
+going on. It was considered a great honor to be spoken to by him.
+
+Titus said very cleverly what an honor it was that Walderjoergli had
+come to the celebration, and begged that he would ascend the platform
+and speak a few pithy words to the assembly. The judge's wife added
+that it would be a precious memory to old and young, to children and
+children's children, if they could say that they had heard the last
+Master of Justice speak.
+
+Walderjoergli looked at Titus and the judge's wife with a penetrating,
+almost contemptuous glance; for he was not vain, nor did he wish to be
+considered wise, and play the part of a prophet; so he shook his great
+head, and stuck his thumbs into the arm-holes of his long red vest, but
+straightened himself to his full height, and his eyes sparkled, when
+the district forester, who knew exactly how to deal with Joergli, added
+that it would be well if the clergy were not allowed to entirely
+monopolize everything, even the soldier's associations, and to dedicate
+the flag; it would be particularly appropriate that a man like Joergli
+should drive the nail that fastened the flag to the staff: the Emperor
+Joseph would certainly have approved of that.
+
+When the Emperor Joseph was mentioned it seemed as if a new life were
+awakened in Joergli. Around Emperor Joseph, who was venerated like a
+holy martyr, were gathered recollections of Joergli's father, which he
+almost considered events in his own life.
+
+He clenched his hands, and raising his arms, said, "Very well; so let
+it be."
+
+He was led to the platform, and boundless were the acclamations of joy
+when he appeared, supported on the right hand by Titus, and on the left
+by the lieutenant.
+
+There fell such a silence that the people noticed the whirring of the
+wings of a pair of doves which flew over the speaker's stand. Pointing
+to them, Joergli cried:
+
+"There they fly! One says not to the other, 'We will turn this way or
+that.' Their flight agrees by nature. So it is. Agreeing by nature--"
+
+He paused, and seemed unable to proceed. The figure had evidently led
+him off from what he meant to say. He looked around perplexed, and
+seemed not to be able to speak another word--yes, even to have
+forgotten that he stood upon the platform.
+
+His two companions above, and the audience below, stood in painful
+embarrassment. It was wrong to have brought an old man of a hundred on
+the stand.
+
+Just then the district forester, who stood near, said audibly, "Emperor
+Joseph."
+
+Joergli opened his mouth wide and nodded. Yes, now he had his
+guiding-star again. Almost inaudibly, and in a very confused manner, he
+spoke of the Emperor Joseph and of the new emperor. Only this much was
+plain--that he considered the present emperor as the direct successor
+and continuer of the Emperor Joseph's struggles against the Pope.
+
+Titus handed Joergli a nail, and the lieutenant gave him a hammer. He
+nailed the flag to the flag-staff, and this widely visible act was more
+than the best speech; and he left the stand amid cheers and the sounds
+of trumpets.
+
+He immediately called for his wagon. He wished to go home, and no one
+dared urge him to remain.
+
+The four-horse wagon drove up the meadow. Landolin pushed his way up to
+it, and said, "Joergli, I will go home with you. Take me along."
+
+"Give my greetings to your wife," said Joergli, turning away from him.
+He let himself be helped into the wagon, and then drove away. The
+wheels were hardly heard on the meadow, and the people on both sides
+saluted reverently, as they made way for him.
+
+"How glad I should have been, if I could have sat in the wagon beside
+him!" thought Landolin.
+
+No one ever prayed--no one ever offered to an angel,--to a saint,--more
+childlike petitions than these--"Take me with you; deliver me from this
+misery,"--which had just passed Landolin's lips. But in these days the
+best are no longer good, and have no pity.
+
+When Joergli had gone the merriment began anew. They invited one another
+to drink, and new groups were soon formed. Only Landolin was not
+invited. He stood alone. Stop! Landolin struck his hand on his pocket,
+and the money jingled. With that a man can call a comrade who will talk
+with him better than any one else, and make him forget his cares.
+
+He turned away from the meadow, and went to the city side of the Sword
+Inn. There were no guests there to-day. An old servant brought him
+wine. He drank alone, and had his glass refilled again and again.
+
+As he still wanted every one to consider him of great importance, he
+explained to the old waitress that he was going to a bathing place for
+his health pretty soon. There they wouldn't let a man drink anything
+but mineral water, and so he was going to take plenty of wine before he
+went.
+
+The old waitress said that was wise, and then returned to the
+illustrated paper which she had brought down from the Casino.
+
+It was quiet in the cool room. Only a canary bird in his cage twittered
+awhile, and then began whistling half of the song "Who never on a spree
+did go."
+
+Landolin frequently looked up at the bird and smiled; until,
+remembering Walderjoergli, he murmured, "Give my greeting to your wife."
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER LIII.
+
+
+The mother slept in her chamber. Thoma sat at the table in the
+living-room before a large, handsomely-bound book, filled with
+beautiful pictures. It was an illustrated history of the last war,
+which Anton had given her. Many book-marks lay between the leaves, at
+the places where the battles in which Anton had taken part were
+described. There were many soldiers in the pictures, but Anton's face
+was not distinguishable. She had heard that he was not at the
+celebration to-day. It was on her account. What could she do for him?
+There seemed to be nothing that she could do. Thoma had intended to
+read, but she could not bring herself to it; and to-day it horrified
+her to see in the pictures the men murdering each other, and shell
+tearing them to pieces.
+
+For a long time she stared before her into the empty air. She was weary
+after the harvest work. Her head sank forward on the open book, and she
+fell asleep.
+
+A cry awoke her; for her mother was calling,
+
+"Landolin! For God's sake! don't do it! Stop!"
+
+Thoma hastened to her mother, who looked at her wildly, as though she
+scarcely knew who and where she was.
+
+"Is it you?" she asked at length. "Where is your father?"
+
+"At the celebration."
+
+"He must come home. Has not Peter found him yet? Where is he staying so
+long? Oh, Thoma! The eye-glass on the little black ribbon! He kneeled
+down on Titus, and tried to choke him! The farmer must come home,
+home!" she cried, weeping. She was in a fever. Thoma succeeded in
+quieting and undressing her. With chattering teeth she begged that a
+messenger should be sent for her husband, and Thoma obeyed her request.
+
+Boys and girls rode past the house in the decorated wagons,
+singing,--the people on foot talked and laughed,--while in the house
+the farmer's wife lay in a fever. But at last, with burning cheeks, she
+fell asleep.
+
+Thoma had ordered the messenger she sent for her father to go for the
+physician at the same time. The messenger found the doctor, but not the
+farmer.
+
+It was late at night when Landolin crossed the bridge on his way home.
+He hit against the railing, and cried, "Oho!" as though it were some
+one blocking his way.
+
+"Are you drunk?" he said, laying his finger on his nose; then laughed
+and went on.
+
+The meadow was empty; not a soul was there. Landolin crossed it with a
+steady step, and ascending the speaker's stand--
+
+"All you people there together, may the devil catch you all! Hutadi!
+Hutadi!" he cried, in a terribly strong voice. He seemed to expect that
+some one would come and fight with him; but no one came; so he
+descended from the stand, and went up the mountain road.
+
+A sober Landolin struggled with a tipsy one.
+
+"Fie! shame on you, Landolin!" he said to himself, "what a fellow you
+are--Fie upon you! A man like you drunk on the open road, before
+everybody--Let me alone, Titus! I don't want anything to do with
+you--I'm not drunk. And if I am--no--. The cursed wine at the Sword--at
+that time--Go away--away!--If you don't go, Vetturi, you shall--There,
+there you lie--"
+
+He bent over to pick up a stone, and fell down.
+
+Getting up again, he said to himself, as he would to an unruly horse:
+"Keep quiet, quiet! So, so!" And then he cried angrily: "If I only had
+a horse! At home there are twelve, fourteen horses and one colt--Who's
+coming behind me? Who is it? If you have any courage, come on! 'Tisn't
+fair to hit from behind. Come in front of me! Come, and I'll fight with
+you!"
+
+From the steep hillside a stone rolled into the road, loosened by who
+knows what animal's flying foot? Landolin clenched both hands in his
+hair, that rose on end with fright, and cried:
+
+"Are you throwing stones? That's it, self-defense! self-defense! Just
+wait!"
+
+He stopped and said, "Don't drive yourself crazy, or they'll put you in
+an asylum."
+
+A railroad train rushed through the valley. The locomotive's red lights
+appeared like the flaming eyes of a snorting monster. Landolin stared
+at it, and in doing so he became calmer, for ghosts cannot haunt a
+locomotive's track. The sweat of fear ran down his face, and with
+loudly beating heart he hastened up the road. At length he breathed
+more freely; he took off his hat; a refreshing breeze blew over the
+plateau: he saw his house, and said:
+
+"The light is still burning; they are waiting for me; supper is on the
+table. Control yourself; you are Landolin of Reutershoefen. You have a
+wife called Johanna, a daughter called Thoma, and a son called Peter. I
+care nothing for the hammering in my temples. I am not drunk--tipsy:
+three times three are nine--and one more is ten. You lie when you say I
+am drunk. I can walk straight. So, there is the well. Oh well, you are
+happy; you can stay at home, and yet be full all the time. Ha! ha!
+Hush! don't try to make jokes. Hush!"
+
+Again he stood at the well, and cooled his hands and face, then went
+into the yard, and without stopping to speak to the dog, passed up the
+steps and into the living-room, where he found the doctor sitting at
+the table, writing.
+
+"What is it? There's nothing the matter?"
+
+"Your wife is sick."
+
+"It is not serious?"
+
+"I don't know yet. At any rate you must keep quiet. You may go in; but
+don't talk much, and come right away again."
+
+The walls, the tables, the chairs, seemed to reel; but his step was
+firm as he went to his wife's side and said:
+
+"Walderjoergli sent his greeting to you; he charged me with it twice."
+
+He had sufficient self-control to say all this with a steady voice, and
+his wife replied:
+
+"I know it already; the doctor told me that Walderjoergli was there.
+Where he is, everything goes right. Thank him. Good-night."
+
+Landolin threw himself into the great chair out in the living-room, and
+cried:
+
+"Oh, what misery it is to come home and find your wife sick, and no
+joy, no welcome, nothing!"
+
+He looked at Thoma, who, without moving or making a sound, stood
+leaning against the bedroom door.
+
+To what a pass has it come when, in the midst of such misery, the
+father thinks of himself alone!
+
+Landolin arose wearily and whispered to Thoma:
+
+"You've noticed that I'm tipsy? Yes, I am; and if you do not treat me
+affectionately, as you used to, I will be so every day,--then you'll
+see what will come of it!"
+
+"I cannot keep you from doing what you choose, either to yourself or to
+us."
+
+"Bring me something to drink. I'm very thirsty," ordered Landolin.
+Thoma went, and returned with a bottle.
+
+"That is nothing but water! But never mind; you're right. You're
+sharp."
+
+For the first time in many days, father and daughter laughed together,
+but their laughter soon died away.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER LIV.
+
+
+"The farmer works like a hired man," said the servants and day-laborers
+on Landolin's farm.
+
+It was true that Landolin was the first up in the morning, and the last
+abed at night; and that he took hold of the work in the field he had
+never done before. His appetite was good, and he slept all night
+without tossing about. He never left the farm, neither week-days nor
+Sunday; and he did what cost him a great effort: he said in the
+presence of the servants that Peter should now have the control of
+everything; for in the few years he had left, he wanted to see with his
+own eyes how Peter would carry things on after they should be closed
+forever.
+
+His speech was milder, and his manner less haughty.
+
+He seemed grateful that a heavy storm had passed over his house without
+breaking; for his wife was out of danger. To be sure, she was yet
+ailing, and had to keep her room; but she seemed to revive when she saw
+that her husband had discovered the best mode of living; that is--to be
+independent of the world's opinion, and to keep his own life straight.
+She did not know that he had discovered what a treasure he had in his
+wife, and he did not tell her; for he could not express himself on the
+subject.
+
+There were but two persons in the house whom he shunned. One of them
+noticed it, and the other did not. Landolin avoided being in the same
+field, or at the same work anywhere, with Thoma; for he felt as though
+he were under a ban whenever she looked at him: and even when he was
+not looking at her, he thought he could feel her eyes following every
+motion he made. He could not imagine what more she wanted of him, since
+she had forbidden his making any effort to arrange matters with Anton.
+Since his coming home, and especially since the celebration, Landolin
+was in the habit of shutting his eyes when he thought he was unnoticed;
+and even when looking at anyone they winked incessantly, as though they
+were tired and only kept open by force. A glance that Thoma gave him
+made him conscious of this habit for the first time, and also apprised
+him that she knew its cause.
+
+The other person whom Landolin avoided was Tobias; for Peter persisted
+in saying that Tobias must be sent away. And although Landolin was by
+no means soft-hearted, especially toward servants, whom, at the best,
+he considered rascals; yet the thought of this dismissal was painful to
+him. He could not forget how much Tobias had helped him to his
+acquittal.
+
+Outside of the house there were two persons whom they would all have
+been glad to forget entirely. One was Anton. They heard nothing from
+him directly; for he had gone, with a large raft, down the Rhine to
+Holland. But all the people who came to the house--and gradually many
+began coming--expressed their regret that Anton was not to be his
+son-in-law; and their inquiries as to the cause were unceasing.
+
+Whoever could have observed her closely must have seen that Thoma's
+eyebrows had sunk a degree lower since Anton went away. He had once
+told her that his father had often urged him to go to Rotterdam with a
+raft some time, and get acquainted with the daughters of his business
+friends there, and look around for a wife. There was already a Dutch
+woman in the neighborhood--a comfortable, clear-complexioned, good
+woman, also married to a miller; and Thoma fancied that Anton could be
+happy with such an honest, careful wife.
+
+The second person whom they would have liked to forget was
+Cushion-Kate. She lived quietly, and scarcely spoke with any one; but
+every night she might have been seen with her lantern, at her son's
+grave. Whenever she met one of Landolin's family, she stopped and
+stared at them. She never returned their greeting, and always went out
+of her way to avoid Landolin himself.
+
+Landolin's wife and Thoma had both taken great pains, personally and
+through friends, to help Cushion-Kate, but she refused everything.
+
+"I will not be bought off by the murderer Landolin," was her invariable
+answer. She gathered grain in every field except Landolin's. Once, when
+crossing the bridge, on her way to the mill with her gleanings, she met
+him on horseback. She sprang before the horse, and cried: "Get off and
+drown yourself, you murderer! Ride on! Drive on! Whether you ride or
+drive, you carry your hell around with you! Get off and drown
+yourself!"
+
+"Are you done? Then step out of my way," said Landolin, calmly. But as
+the old woman still clung to the horse's bridle, he cried angrily:
+
+"Let go, or I'll let you feel my whip or set Racker at you!"
+
+The dog understood his master's words. He set his paws on the woman's
+shoulders, and snapped at her red kerchief. She stepped back. Landolin
+made Racker drop the kerchief, and then rode on without a look at the
+old woman, who picked up her sack of wheat again. At home he did not
+mention the occurrence.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER LV.
+
+
+It is unfortunate, as every one knows, when two horses hitched to the
+same wagon fail to pull evenly together. But no one can suppose that it
+is from malicious intention, and either horse might complain that it
+was all the fault of the other, and that it was only from a surly
+delight in obstinacy that he didn't put himself to the harness, and so
+pull the wagon along. But with two persons it is quite different;
+especially with those who have before pulled so well together as Peter
+and Tobias. The latter had of course noticed Peter's imperiousness and
+malignity; but he did not understand it, nor ask the reason for it, for
+he really gave the matter very little thought. This was no time for
+bickering and contentions as to which should outrank the other. Tobias
+thought to himself, "Only wait till after the harvest; then we'll have
+threshing-time." Peter likewise thought, "Only wait till the harvest is
+over; then I'll draw my hand over the measure and level it off." Tobias
+smilingly allowed Peter to give orders; he even scarcely looked up when
+Peter countermanded those which he had himself given to the servants
+and day-laborers. It is harvest-time; stormy weather would be injurious
+now, but a storm between people working together would be still worse.
+
+Tobias gave the servants to understand that he was glad to let the
+little boy Peter sit in the saddle and manage the whip; for, thanks to
+his care, the wagon would move on safely.
+
+Matters continued in this way during the whole harvest-time. Peter and
+Tobias stood opposite one another like two men that, with axes raised,
+ready to strike each other, wait a moment to draw their breath. When
+will the blow fall?
+
+Landolin pretended to see or hear nothing that was taking place between
+the head-servant and his son. He had not had a confidential talk with
+Tobias since the evening after the trial. But Tobias was not concerned
+about it. A man does not say to the forest behind his house, "It's
+right for you to stay there and keep on growing;" and it was just as
+easy to imagine the mountains moving away with the forest as to think
+of Tobias leaving the farm, especially since he had helped, so cleverly
+and well, to have his master acquitted.
+
+But Tobias often looked at his master to see if he would not say a word
+of reproof to Peter for his overbearing manner.
+
+When Landolin could no longer avoid doing so, he said, shaking his
+finger and winking confidentially: "Let him alone. A horse that pulls
+so hard at first will soon let up."
+
+But Peter did not let up. The principal part of the harvest was over.
+They were about to take the grain that had been threshed out on rainy
+days to market. This had been for many years Tobias's undisputed right,
+but Peter now declared that he would do it alone.
+
+"It's not necessary for me to answer you," replied Tobias. "You are not
+the master. The farmer and I will show you who is master."
+
+He called Landolin, and made his complaint to him. Landolin took a
+grain of wheat out of a sack that had just been filled; bit it in two;
+looked at the white meal, and nodded without giving a reply. But Tobias
+pressed him for an answer, and demanded to know whether he was in the
+farmer's service or in Peter's.
+
+"Peter and I are now one and the same," said Landolin, at length,
+swallowing the grain of wheat, the first that had ripened since spring.
+He decided that it would be wisest to side with his son. Tobias could
+do him no more harm, and one need not be better than all the rest of
+the world; ingratitude is the world's wages. But still he did not want
+to appear ungrateful; so he said, when he had swallowed the wheat, "Be
+wise, Tobias."
+
+"Wise? Who is master--you or Peter?"
+
+"Peter," Landolin forced himself to say; and then turned away. It may
+be that Tobias is treated unjustly; it may be. But Landolin must look
+out for himself first. He thought he had burden enough of his own,
+without bearing other people's.
+
+He went up the steps and stood on the porch.
+
+Peter was triumphant.
+
+"Did you hear that? Now listen to something more. You may go to-day, or
+to-morrow, or at this minute; the sooner you go, the better."
+
+Tobias looked toward the stables, toward the barns, and toward
+the mountains to see if they were not shaking. "So I'm sent
+away--dismissed? I--by you?"
+
+"Yes, yes, by the little boy you so willingly let play at being master,
+just for fun. I've calculated what is still coming to you."
+
+"What is coming to me? And what price have you set on what I have done
+for you? For you, you acquitted man up there!--and for you, you----"
+
+"If you want a witness fee, I'll give you four marks more," said Peter,
+with a sneer. "We're not afraid of you. Go and say that you gave false
+testimony, and see what you'll get by that. Father! don't speak--not a
+word; he has to deal with me."
+
+"Well, it serves me right: I might have known it would be so. The
+stones that lay here then are now firmly bedded in the pavement; but,
+Peter, mark my words: Stones will fly through the air at you, till you
+are dead and buried. I am an innocent child in comparison with you. You
+will suffer for this."
+
+"Prophesy, if you like. You know from experience what a good prophet
+you are. You understand what I mean."
+
+Tobias groaned like a goaded bull; he pulled at his clothes; he
+evidently wanted to rush upon Peter: but Peter stood still and lit a
+fresh pipe. Tobias clenched his hands upon his breast, and, without
+another word, went to his room.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER LVI.
+
+
+The wind whistled over the stubble, and when they awoke in the morning,
+the first snow lay high upon the crest of the mountain. The powerful
+autumn sun soon melted it, and laughing rills ran down through all the
+little channels to the river in the valley.
+
+It was St. AEgidius Sunday, shortly before church time, when Tobias went
+to the farmer's wife, who was sitting in the living-room, and said:
+
+"Mistress, I've come to say good-bye to you, and thank you for all your
+kindness through these many years. You know I've been dismissed." The
+farmer's wife nodded. "By Peter," continued Tobias, "by Peter, not by
+the farmer; that I see plainly enough, though he did give his consent.
+But he isn't of any account any more. For your sake, Mistress, I wish
+the house no evil as long as you live. I've deserved to have this
+happen to me; it serves me quite right. Why did I lie, and say before
+the court that Vetturi threw a stone at the Master? Why, the shaky
+fellow couldn't have lifted one of those paving-stones. It serves me
+right; and Peter is smart. He carries things with a high hand. He knows
+that I can't say this to anybody but you, and you knew it before.
+Wherever else I'd say it, they'd laugh at me, and despise me into the
+bargain. Now good-bye, and I hope you'll see many happy years yet."
+
+A cold shudder crept over the farmer's wife. Her hands trembled and her
+head moved from one side of the great chair to the other. But at length
+she controlled herself and said:
+
+"I beg you, for my sake, don't say this to any one else. Give me your
+hand on it."
+
+Tobias hesitated, but he could not withstand her imploring look. So he
+grasped her cold hand.
+
+"Where are you going when you leave here?" asked she.
+
+"You are the first that's asked me that. What do the others care for a
+dismissed servant, even though he has served them so many years? I'm
+going to my brother, the teamster's."
+
+"Take him my greeting. And you shall soon come back again--I'll fix
+that."
+
+"No, I think not. I'll not come back again. I've laid by something, and
+perhaps I can get another place. I won't go to Titus, but perhaps Anton
+will take me when he comes home. So again farewell."
+
+"Farewell, and keep up a brave heart."
+
+The farmer's wife looked through the window as Tobias, with his
+brother's help, lifted his great chest into the wagon. It looked almost
+like a coffin. She stepped back from the window, and called a maid to
+help her to her bed.
+
+Landolin and Thoma were frightened when they were summoned to her
+bedside. She lay with her back to them, and without turning around she
+said, "Don't be frightened; I'll soon be all right again." Landolin
+knew in a moment that Tobias had been doing mischief here, so he said:
+
+"I shouldn't have let the rascally fellow come up to see you alone.
+Before my eyes he wouldn't have dared to pour his stupid spite into
+your--into your good heart."
+
+Such an affectionate word caused his wife to turn over and grasp her
+husband's hand. Holding her hand in one of his, and stroking it gently
+with the other, Landolin continued:
+
+"Yes, one only finds an unfaithful man out when it's too late. When a
+servant is discharged, his hidden meanness shows itself. Tobias has the
+impudence to say that he invented a lie for my sake. It's infamous how
+malicious the greatest simpleton can yet be. But, thank God, what he
+says won't make any difference with you."
+
+His wife looked at him with glistening eyes; and casting a sidelong
+glance at Thoma, Landolin continued:
+
+"I must beg Peter's pardon; I didn't know him. He's smart; smarter
+than--than I knew. We send Tobias away, and that is the best proof that
+we, thank God, have nothing to hide. But I've talked enough. Not
+another angry word shall escape my lips. You know I'm going to
+confession to-day?"
+
+The farmer's wife lay perfectly quiet. She felt chilly, but she begged
+the family to go to church; for the bells were just ringing.
+
+Landolin went, and not without great self-satisfaction. To be sure, it
+was not a difficult matter to deceive his confiding wife; but Thoma had
+received a hit at the same time. She deserved it for her obstinate
+hard-heartedness; for of course she must know in what direction the
+praise of Peter led.
+
+Thoma stayed with her mother, who prayed quietly.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER LVII.
+
+
+Up the same road over which Landolin had passed the night after the
+celebration, now came, on this clear autumn Sunday, the judge's wife. A
+scoffer, who knew her thoughts, might have said to her: Not the
+intoxication of wine alone makes a man talk to himself, and changes
+his view of everything; and, worse still, the recovery from an
+over-indulgence in exciting thought is, perhaps, even bitterer.
+
+This might have been said, and still the lady would not have stopped in
+her walk. Obeying a voice from within and not from without, she felt
+that she ought no longer delay in an effort to establish peace and
+quietness in Landolin's house, and peace between them and Cushion-Kate.
+She knew right well, for she had often enough experienced it, that a
+man sets little value on unsolicited help; yes, even frequently refuses
+it. But she also knew that her advice, even when repulsed, had had
+effect, and worked for good; and, above all things, she felt herself
+within the circle of the duties that spring from the union of man to
+man. As in war the wounded is no enemy, so in peace the sufferer is no
+stranger.
+
+So the lady went up the hill. The church bells were ringing for the
+noon-day service; but in her ears rang the sound of a bell whose metal
+was not yet molten, and for which, who knows when a tower will be
+built!
+
+The lady's thoughts by no means hovered in the so-called "higher
+regions"--quite the reverse. She thought of the nearest and most
+every-day subjects.
+
+As she stood by the road, she saw a four-horse spring-wagon coming down
+the hill on a trot. A cow, grazing by the wayside, sprang, frightened,
+into the middle of the road, and ran along before the wagon, terrified,
+and with difficulty; at last the coachman rose in his seat, and hit her
+with his long whip, so that she turned aside, stood awhile, staring
+after the dust-enveloped monster with the four horses, and then went on
+grazing.
+
+Smilingly the lady thought that this might be given as an example to
+the villagers. Turn aside, and you will be free from fear of what comes
+rolling behind you, threatening destruction.
+
+But one must not give country-folk an illustration from their own
+immediate surroundings. Clergymen understand this; or perhaps hold by
+tradition that only strange, powerful figures have any effect. This is
+why they so like to speak of the storm-tossed ship on the sea, of the
+palmy oases in the desert; when neither they, nor their hearers, have
+ever seen either.
+
+Engaged in these thoughts, Madam Pfann had reached the plateau, and
+came in sight of Landolin's house. The shingled roof glittered in the
+mid-day sun, and the tree on the east side was standing full of nuts.
+
+Although Landolin, who was sitting on the bench before the house, saw
+the lady coming, he did not move, but kept on cracking nuts in his
+hand, and shelling out the kernels. Not until she had drawn very near
+did he rise and say:
+
+"Good-day, Madam. Will you not rest here a little while?"
+
+"Yes; I was just coming to see you."
+
+"May I ask what news you bring me?"
+
+"Properly speaking, none. Or perhaps--I hope----
+
+"Well! what is it?"
+
+"I would like to talk with you in the house; not here."
+
+"My wife, I'm sorry to say, is sick. It's nothing serious, but she
+might wake up."
+
+"Then take me to the upper room."
+
+"If you wish, why not? But are you not afraid to be alone with a
+murderer?"
+
+"You must not say that word again; and no one else must. I hope to root
+out even the thought of it from every mind."
+
+"You'll have to use witchcraft," thought Landolin; but nevertheless he
+wondered what the lady had to say.
+
+When the two rose, Peter came from behind the nut-tree. It was strange,
+one met Peter everywhere. It seemed as though he had come out of the
+wall, or through the steps. Without paying any attention to the fact
+that his sudden appearance must be surprising, Peter said, very
+submissively:
+
+"Madam does us great honor in coming to see us. Great folks know what
+is the proper thing to do. They are the best, after all."
+
+Landolin opened his eyes wide at hearing Peter talk thus. "Where has
+the boy learned it all?" The lady, too, looked at him in astonishment;
+but Peter went on composedly:
+
+"Madam, my father keeps no secrets from me. May I not know what news
+you bring us?"
+
+With these words Peter fixed his eyes sternly upon his father, that he
+might not be able to give the lady the slightest sign, even with his
+eye. But the judge's wife helped him out, for she replied:
+
+"What I wish or bring is for your father alone; but I am heartily glad
+that you and your father are in such unison. A child that is not good
+to his parents never prospers in this world."
+
+Peter chuckled. It is delicious how every one dissembles. Of course the
+lady knows how he and his father stand toward one another, and yet she
+plays the hypocrite. He laughed again and again until his father said
+to him:
+
+"Send something for the lady to eat and drink to the upper room; but
+don't wake your mother."
+
+As Landolin and Madam Pfann went up the stairs, Landolin stepped as
+lightly as the lady.
+
+In the upper room, where Thoma's outfit was stored, the air was close.
+The judge's wife quickly opened the window, and then turned to
+Landolin, and looked at him with the clear, friendly glance before
+which harshness and obduracy seemed always to disappear. Wherever she
+came, she diffused peace and calmness and noble graciousness.
+
+A maid-servant brought food and drink.
+
+Landolin went to the doors to see that no one was listening, and then
+said, with a modest politeness that was quite new for him:
+
+"Pray be seated on the sofa; and permit me now to ask what you have to
+tell me?"
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER LVIII.
+
+
+"Mr. Ex-Bailiff," began the lady.
+
+"Please say simply Landolin, without the Mr. or ex-bailiff."
+
+"Well then, Landolin, a while ago you said a word which I will not
+repeat. You said it in derision, in anger and vexation. Landolin, you
+are acquitted, but I wish that you would acquit yourself, and that you
+can do to-day, to me, by my help."
+
+"Madam, I went to confession to-day, to the priest, at church."
+
+"Very well. I don't mix myself in church affairs; but I see in your
+eyes, I see in your heart, that you have a feeling like one who strives
+to hide a secret sorrow, and thinks that it is not seen. You do not
+feel yourself free, and clear, and at ease."
+
+The veins in Landolin's forehead swelled in anger, but the lady looked
+steadily into his face as though he were a wild animal that could be
+tamed by a firm, unwavering look. His eyelids rose and fell quickly,
+his tightly compressed lips quivered, and his hand that lay on the
+table clenched nervously.
+
+"I know what you want to say," said the lady, quickly; "you have a
+right to do so: only say right out that I must leave your house; that I
+had no right to force myself into your home, or into your heart. Only
+say it, and I will go."
+
+"No, stay. You are a brave woman, I must say. I should not have thought
+it possible, never,--a woman! Speak without fear. From such a woman as
+you I will hear anything. I think there can be but one such as you in
+the world."
+
+The lady blushed, and for hardly longer than a thought takes the
+flattery disconcerted her, and seemed to turn her from her course.
+
+Landolin perceived this momentary confusion, and smiled triumphantly.
+"After all, she's only a woman, and, like every woman, can be bought
+with dress and praise!"
+
+Controlling herself quickly, the lady resumed, with a tone that came
+from her inmost soul:
+
+"Landolin, men are put in the world together that one may help
+another----"
+
+"I see nothing of it. Nobody troubles himself about his neighbors,"
+interrupted Landolin.
+
+Did you ever do otherwise yourself? Did you formerly concern yourself
+about others? the lady wanted to say; but she was quick-witted enough
+to suppress that, and replied instead:
+
+"You have a right to be bitter against the world."
+
+Landolin looked at her in astonishment. He felt something of that mild
+art of healing which does not try to soften sorrow by denying it and
+covering it over, but by recognizing it in its reality and importance.
+
+"Thank you," said Landolin, "but I have taken advantage of that right.
+The world is nothing to me, and I am nothing to the world."
+
+"May I ask a question?"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Then tell me if the misfortune, or accident, in this poor fellow's
+case had happened, not to you, but to Titus, to the Oberbauer, or to
+Tobelurban, would Landolin of Reutershoefen have acted differently
+toward him?"
+
+Landolin shrugged his shoulders and whistled softly. He followed her
+through the first, second, even the third thought, but at the fourth he
+stopped, and, like a balking horse, was not to be moved from the spot.
+With an encouraging smile the lady said:
+
+"I will answer for you. 'Yes, Madam Pfann; I should have acted toward
+the others just as they have acted toward me.'"
+
+Landolin nodded.
+
+"You are sharp; you cut one through and through."
+
+"Very well; then do not be so timid and afraid."
+
+"I afraid? Of what?"
+
+"Of your own thoughts. Within Landolin there are two Landolins, and one
+of them wants to cast out the other. And now I want to say, don't turn
+away the only one who can help you."
+
+"Nobody can help me."
+
+"Yes, yes, there is one, and he is a strong man; only he does not know
+it now. And do you know what his name is? Landolin of Reutershoefen. You
+alone can help yourself, and then you will have no one else to thank."
+
+"Yes; but how?"
+
+"Take a drink first, and give me one, and then listen."
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER LIX.
+
+
+"Landolin," began the judge's wife anew, "if we could rely upon it that
+people would lay penance upon themselves, and do good where they had
+done evil, or when a bad accident had happened to them--if we knew that
+surely, we should need no courts and no punishment in the world.
+Landolin, there is a way in which you can free yourself and your whole
+house from unhappiness."
+
+"Does this look like an unhappy house?"
+
+"It does not look so, but it is so, Landolin. Outside, there sits a
+poor woman, whose only son is dead. In field and forest this woman
+has only the one little spot of earth in which her son rests, where
+grows----"
+
+"The woman is nothing to me."
+
+"Your mouth only says that; the soul within you speaks quite
+differently. If you had been found guilty you would have had to support
+this desolate widow."
+
+She was startled when she was suddenly interrupted by a laugh from
+Landolin. To be sure, it was a forced one, but a laugh nevertheless.
+She looked at him inquiringly, and he cried:
+
+"I see you understand all about law."
+
+"We are not talking of law. The poor woman has no legal claim. What you
+do you will do voluntarily, and it is that that is beautiful. Landolin,
+you will give the money that I desire; but that is not enough for me:
+you must also give the right thoughts with it."
+
+"I have no money, and no right thoughts."
+
+"Yes, you have; you have both. You will have them, and the more you
+give the more you will have. I vouch for you, you will yet make the
+poor woman's days happy and peaceful."
+
+"Oho!" cried Landolin, "so that the world shall say, 'He feels, after
+all, that he is guilty, and is trying to cover it over with
+generosity.'"
+
+"What difference does what the world says make to you?"
+
+A violent struggle must have taken place in Landolin's soul, and it
+showed itself in his manner. He walked restlessly up and down the room.
+He clenched his hands; he opened them again. At length he stood still
+before the judge's wife and said:
+
+"Madam, even should you succeed with me, seven angels could not tear a
+wicked woman from her wickedness. 'Tis easier to drag a fox from his
+hole with the bare hand. Perhaps you do not know that Cushion-Kate has
+always had a hardened disposition. Perhaps she cannot help it. Her
+mother stood at the church door with a straw wreath on her head before
+Cushion-Kate was born. No, Madam Pfann, with me--you have seen--I let
+myself be persuaded; but who knows----"
+
+"Just leave that to me. Oh, dear Landolin, you'll make my life
+more happy if you'll obey me; and every morsel you eat, every moment
+you sleep, will be doubly blessed to you. Come now with me to
+Cushion-Kate."
+
+"I go to Cushion-Kate! If she wants anything of me she may come to me.
+I wouldn't like to tell you of all she tries to do to me on highway and
+byway."
+
+"And for that very reason go to her with me now. I know very well what
+that is--Landolin to Cushion-Kate;--but do not ask yourself now if you
+are doing too much--if you are lowering yourself. Come with me! Give me
+your hand. Come!"
+
+"Very well. I will go with you."
+
+It was quiet in the road; no one was to be seen while Landolin walked
+along with the judge's wife. She frequently looked at her companion, as
+if in fear that he might suddenly turn and run away; but he kept step
+with her, and only where the road and the meadow path met he stopped
+and said:
+
+"I should never have believed it if any one had told me that I should
+do this. But I do it for your sake; and Cushion-Kate may curse and
+insult me as she will. I will say nothing in return."
+
+"She will change for the better," said the judge's wife, confidently.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER LX.
+
+
+In the little house past which led the meadow path, Cushion-Kate sat at
+the table this Sunday afternoon. Before her lay the hymn-book, but it
+was not open. The old woman had rested her elbow on the table, and her
+left cheek lay on her bony hand; she was gazing out of the window
+before which the black elderberries glistened, and a young starling
+sang.
+
+For a long time she looked before her without moving, and a bitter
+smile passed over her hard features as she muttered:
+
+"He dares to go to the Lord's Table before the whole congregation. O
+Thou above! forgive me that I quarrel with Thee so. But even Thou art
+not as Thou wast in old times. Landolin should have stood before the
+church door in a penitent's dress. Yes, mother; you had to stand there
+with a straw wreath on your head, and thought that you must sink into
+the ground in shame; and you cursed the whole world; and I beneath your
+heart learned it then--there is nothing but sorrow and distress in my
+blood. O God, I pray for only one thing; let me not die before I have
+seen how this ends with Landolin. I cannot wait till the next world; I
+will not----"
+
+She took her hand from her cheek and listened; voices, steps, drew
+nearer; the wooden bolt of the house door was pushed back, and the room
+door opened.
+
+"Sit still, Kate," said the judge's wife; and behind her stood
+Landolin. The old woman opened her mouth, but she could not bring out a
+word. The judge's wife laid her hand on her shoulder, and said, "Kate!
+Here is the ex-bailiff; he wants to bring you rest and kindness, and
+everything that is beautiful and right. Now I beg you, take heart, and
+lighten your soul and his; he wants to take care of you as though you
+were his own mother."
+
+"His mother! I was a mother; I am called so no longer. Had there been,
+not twelve men, but twelve mothers, in court, they would have hanged
+him, and the ravens would have eaten his eyes and his fat cheeks."
+
+The judge's wife was struck dumb by this raving; but Cushion-Kate now
+turned to Landolin:
+
+"They say that you spoke for yourself in court; do you now need some
+one else to speak for you?"
+
+Controlling himself with a violent effort, Landolin said that he was
+heartily sorry that so great a sorrow had come upon Cushion-Kate; that
+he could not bring the dead to life, but he promised her that she
+should live as though she were a rich farmer's wife. With a shrill cry
+Cushion-Kate screamed:
+
+"And I say to you, fie upon all your gold and goods! Only because the
+good lady is there do I not spit in your face. I have found out in
+weary nights that every sinner can be forgiven except one--except the
+liar, and that is what you are. You must go to ruin, you must have no
+rest by day or night, and all that is yours must go to ruin too. Come
+with me! Come to my Vetturi's grave; kneel down there; call the
+congregation together and confess--But true, you never go through the
+churchyard. But take heed! You must soon go, when one of your family
+dies----"
+
+"That is enough," cried Landolin. "Come with me, Madam Pfann, or I
+shall go alone; I cannot stand this any longer."
+
+He turned away; Madam Pfann cast one more beseeching glance at
+Cushion-Kate, but she laughed scornfully.
+
+Landolin and the judge's wife walked silently together to where the
+footpath joins the road; there they stood still, and taking his hand,
+she said:
+
+"Farewell! I thank you for having been so good to me; and you may be
+sure it will do you good too. You have done all a man could, and may
+now rest easy. We have not gained what I hoped, but your soul must feel
+easier and freer."
+
+"Yes; but I should like to ask a favor----"
+
+"Only tell it," said the judge's wife, encouragingly, as Landolin
+paused hesitatingly.
+
+"Well, Madam, when I think of it fairly, I cannot blame Cushion-Kate so
+much, that she is so frantic and raves against me; I am innocent, but
+still it happened. I don't believe in witchcraft and prophecy; but the
+way she spoke of death in my family frightened me. Now what was I going
+to say? I forget. Oh! this. Cushion-Kate may cherish a hate toward me;
+but my daughter--yes, I will tell you how deaf and dumb she is toward
+me. It is hard that a stranger should come between father and child;
+but I think----"
+
+"So do I. You may depend on it I will speak to Thoma, and I shall
+succeed better than we did over there. I will ask her to come and see
+me."
+
+With hearty thanks, Landolin and the lady parted. She walked on a while
+as if lost in thought, and forgetful of the way; but she soon began, as
+usual, to pick flowers and grasses and pretty sprigs, and arrange them
+in a beautiful bouquet.
+
+In the garden of the Sword Inn her husband met her, and she soon sat
+pleasantly conversing with the people of rank in their separate arbor.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER LXI.
+
+
+"The members of the Casino had made it an variable rule never to
+question the judge's wife respecting her experiences in her work; and
+she herself never mentioned it unless she had need of another's help.
+It could easily be seen that she must have met with something difficult
+to-day; but her face brightened when the school-master began:
+
+"The gentlemen will allow me to explain to Madame Pfann the
+starting-point and progress of our conversation. The physician had told
+us that Walderjoergli, since the day of the celebration, had been
+approaching his release. This suggested the assertion that the
+advantage of culture to the common people is questionable in every
+respect; that roughness keeps the people even physically stronger than
+culture. The judge replied that a child must become a youth, and then a
+man, and it is an idle question whether it would not have been happier
+if it had remained a child. The physician was just about to speak of
+the effect of culture in relation to diseases."
+
+"Not exactly that," said the physician; "but I was going to say that
+the greater difficulty of regulating the peasant's diet is attributable
+to his degree of culture; and, again, the acute character of a disease
+that is already developed may often be broken up by timely remedies."
+
+"I claim this also for intellectual and social discipline," cried the
+school-teacher. "The moderating power of culture will turn aside the
+violence of the passions, and ward off their tragical end. Obstinacy
+and unbending willfulness are not real strength."
+
+"A quarrel about the people's beard," said a clergyman to a colleague,
+smiling, and handing him an open snuff-box. The school-master had heard
+a whisper, but had not understood what was said; so he continued, with
+a sharp sidelong glance at the disturbers:
+
+"As sure as the means of healing from the apothecary help struggling
+nature in sickness, or put aside a hindrance to nature's work, just as
+certainly will the means of culture, which for centuries have been
+gathered together by science, mitigate and heal moral infirmity, and
+the outbreak of passion that leads to crime--yes, even crimes that are
+already committed."
+
+Turning to the clergyman, he continued: "Religion is also a
+health-giving means of culture, but it is not the only one."
+
+"Thanks," replied the clergyman, waving his hand, between the thumb and
+fore-finger of which he held a pinch of snuff. "But, most honored
+doctor, your culture-cure is a brewage of classic and scientific
+education, a teaspoonful every hour, to be well shaken before
+taken--probatum est."
+
+Amidst general laughter his colleague added:
+
+"Your plan of education would not even give the people new enjoyments.
+What do you propose to give them? They have not the coarseness that is
+necessary. Look there! Those boys who have been tiring themselves all
+the week at harvest work, on Sunday play ten-pins and throw the heavy
+balls."
+
+The game of ten-pins was here interrupted, for the railroad train
+rushed past; and the boys, who had evidently been waiting for some one,
+hastened to the station, which could be seen from the Casino arbor, and
+the company exclaimed:
+
+"The Hollanders! There comes Anton Armbruster with the raft-drivers."
+Powerful men descended from the cars; they carried cloaks rolled up
+tightly on the axes over their shoulders. They came into the inn
+garden, and soon sat drinking the foaming beer, surrounded by groups of
+friends and strangers. The voices of the raftsmen were loud, and their
+laughter sounded like logs rolled over one another. Anton sat with his
+father, who had awaited him here. He had regained his old, fresh
+appearance; but, from his manner, as well as from that of the miller,
+it was easy to see that something had happened that was not to the old
+man's liking. To be sure, he touched glasses with his son; but he put
+his down again without drinking.
+
+The judge's wife walked up and down the garden with the hostess; but
+the latter soon went and said something to Anton. He rose and went
+toward the judge's wife, greeting her politely. She gave him her hand,
+and went with him toward the vacant promenade by the river side. There
+she first gave him the lieutenant's greeting, and then told him where
+she had been that day, and what she had experienced. She looked at him
+closely and added:
+
+"Thoma is soon coming to see me. May I speak to her of you?"
+
+"Oh, certainly."
+
+"So you did not become engaged in Holland?"
+
+"No, indeed! As long as Thoma does not marry, I too will remain single.
+It was very pleasant in Holland. They are very pleasant, hearty people,
+and they have got over the stupidity of thinking that we Germans want
+to take Holland. They listened to me attentively when I told of the
+war, and the eldest daughter of our business friend said to me that she
+could listen three days while I told about it."
+
+"Did you like her?"
+
+"Oh yes. She is a beautiful girl, and good-nature shines from her face;
+but nevertheless she was not Thoma. As I said, I have not changed.
+Look! There comes Peter of Reutershoefen with the wagon. Peter, what's
+the matter?"
+
+"My mother is sick, and I have come for the doctor. There isn't much
+the matter, but father is so anxious."
+
+"Are all the rest well?"
+
+"Of course they are."
+
+The doctor drove away with Peter, and the judge's wife asked him to
+send Thoma to her as soon as she could leave her mother.
+
+Anton, too, soon went home with his father.
+
+The physician on the plateau, and the raft-drivers in the valley, were
+overtaken by a severe thunderstorm that burst forth with wind and hail.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER LXII.
+
+
+Two days and two nights it stormed in the valley and on the plateau,
+with only short intermissions. When the thunder-clouds are ensnared
+between close-set wooded mountains and sharply pointed rocks, they can
+find no outlet. They toss hither and thither; they break and then come
+together again; it thunders and lightens, rains and hails, till they
+have entirely disburdened themselves.
+
+One could almost say that it was the same with the people here; when
+bad humor had fastened on these hard, sharp-pointed natures, the anger
+and quarreling had no end.
+
+Landolin and Thoma sat by the mother's sick bed; sometimes together,
+sometimes alone. Their eyes flashed, but their thoughts were unspoken.
+The mother was constantly faint, for the air did not cool off during
+the two days and nights. On the third day, however, when the sun shone
+again, and a balmy, fresh air quickened everything anew, she said:
+
+"I feel better. Thoma, it would do you good to go out, and the judge's
+kind wife has certainly something good to say to you. Go and see her.
+She sent you word by the doctor. Go, for my sake, and bring me back
+good news. You can go right away. You have nursed me as I hope some day
+your child may nurse you."
+
+Peter had told them that Anton had returned from Holland, and that he
+had seen him talking earnestly with the judge's wife. And, although her
+mother did not say so, she secretly hoped to live to see their
+reconciliation.
+
+Thoma prepared herself for the walk into the city. But she did not wish
+a stranger to mix in their affairs. She did not need outside help, and
+it would do no good.
+
+When she went to her mother, in her Sunday dress, the mother said,
+taking her hand:
+
+"Child, you look quite different, now you have fixed yourself up a
+little. Let me give you this advice. You are so gentle and so kind to
+me; be the same to others. Don't put on such a dark face. There, that's
+right. When you laugh you are quite another person. Say good-bye to
+your father; he is at the stable. The bay mare has a colt. That is a
+good sign. Go in God's name, and you will come home happy again. God
+keep you!"
+
+As Thoma went past she called a hurried good-bye into the stable, and
+did not wait for an answer. On the road it seemed to her as if she must
+turn back: she ought not to leave her mother to the care of strangers;
+but she went forward, thinking over what she should say to the judge's
+wife.
+
+Thoma often threw up her hands in distress, and looked sadly at the
+destruction which the hail had wrought in the fields; but she soon
+comforted herself. She knew that her father had them insured against
+hail. Now they should have something in return for the tax they had
+paid so many years. When she reached the beautiful pear-tree which
+before had looked like a nosegay, she stood still. The storm had shaken
+off almost all the pears, and they lay scattered on the ground. Thoma
+called a girl who was working in the potato field to come and pick them
+up. Then she went on her way.
+
+Everything reminded her of her first and only walk with Anton, after
+their betrothal. Since then she had not been on this road. She avoided
+the spot where Vetturi had spoken to her; but where she had rested, and
+Anton had stroked her face with the lily of the valley, she paused
+awhile. There was no sound in the forest; not a bird sang, a sultry
+stillness brooded over moss and grass on which the sunbeams quivered,
+the path was strewn with dead and green branches, and the trees which
+had been tapped for resin were broken down. The way was not clear and
+open again till she reached the path through the meadow where the grass
+was still trodden down from the celebration. The water in the river was
+yellow, and ran in high, roaring waves almost to the upper arch of the
+bridge.
+
+The hostess of the Sword Inn nodded to Thoma from the window. Thoma
+responded and hurried past.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER LXIII.
+
+
+The judge's wife was not at home, but the maid--saying that she would
+be back soon: she had only gone to the station; her brother was
+expected, and might perhaps come by the first train--opened the corner
+room, where Thoma was to wait.
+
+An air full of rest and comfort, full of refreshing odors from blooming
+plants on tables and pedestals, surrounded Thoma; and her eyes wandered
+over the beautiful pictures and statues on which the sun shone so
+brightly. Everything was as still as the flowers and the pictures; even
+the clock over the writing-table, among the family pictures, moved its
+pendulum without making the least noise.
+
+Thoma sat down in the corner. The river and the mountains of her home
+appeared strange to her; everything looked so different through these
+great panes of glass.
+
+The judge's wife soon entered, with a fresh bouquet of field flowers in
+her hand. She welcomed Thoma heartily, and the tones of her voice were
+both gentle and firm.
+
+"How beautiful it is at your house! How very beautiful!" Thoma said,
+her voice trembling.
+
+"I am glad that it pleases you."
+
+"Oh! and to think," Thoma went on, "that this lady who has such a
+beautiful home goes to the huts of the poor--goes to Cushion-Kate!"
+
+"Sit down and make yourself comfortable with me. How is your mother?"
+
+"Better, but not quite well yet."
+
+"Do you bring me good news from your father?"
+
+"My father says nothing to me. I learned from strangers that he went
+with you to see Cushion-Kate. His going there shows that you can do
+more with him than any one else. May I ask you something?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"Did my father ask Cushion-Kate's forgiveness? And did he confess?"
+
+"Confess? Your father is acquitted."
+
+"Indeed! Then I have nothing more to say. I beg you to let what I have
+said be as if unheard."
+
+"Dear Thoma, try and think that I am your mother's sister. Have
+confidence in me. I see that something weighs down your heart. I beg
+you disburden your soul."
+
+"Yes, I will; even if it does no good, it must come out. Dear lady,
+I--I saw it with my own eyes. I saw how the stone from my father's hand
+hit Vetturi; and Vetturi no more picked up a stone than that picture on
+the wall picks up one. Then my father went and denied everything; and
+caused all the witnesses and the whole court to lie. O heavens! What
+have I said?"
+
+"Be quiet. So you think then your father should have confessed?"
+
+"Certainly, right out. I would have gone to our Grand Duke and kneeled
+before him; but justice would have been done. 'I did not mean to kill
+him, I did it in anger,'--that is honest and brings one to honor again.
+How often has my father spoken in anger and derision of this one and
+that one who pretends to be richer than he is and deceives people for
+money--for money! And what good has it done my father? He must beg from
+the lowest, for a good word or even for silence. Madam Pfann! last year
+on Whitsunday I was with my father at St. Blasius. There was a woman
+there who had painted her cheeks red, and put flour on her neck and
+forehead. There she sat, in broad daylight, and looked boldly at
+people, to see if they saw her beautiful red cheeks and white neck,
+while she herself knew that she was not young, but on the contrary, old
+and wrinkled."
+
+"I understand. You think it is unworthy of your father."
+
+"Unworthy?" repeated Thoma, for this expression, from a higher sphere
+of thought, affected her strangely; and the judge's wife continued:
+"Child, your thoughts at first were not so hard, but by degrees they
+have grown sharper, have become bitterer and more poignant; and that
+which should have softened you only made you more harsh. When your
+father was humble it revolted you, and when he was proud, likewise."
+
+Thoma's eyes grew larger and larger. She was like a patient whom the
+physician tells exactly how he feels; and this amazement at another's
+knowledge becomes a preparation for, and the commencement of a cure.
+
+The judge's wife laid a hand on her shoulder.
+
+"Dear Thoma, in imprisonment a man can only do no evil; but at liberty
+he can do good. My child, your love of truth is good, beautiful, and
+excellent, but--how shall I say it?--it is not in place now----"
+
+The good lady was sensible of a deep embarrassment, and her face
+reddened as though with shame. She, who was always urging
+straightforwardness, should she now shake this girl's strict truth?
+
+But she recovered herself, and continued: "If your father did deny the
+truth, he is suffering a heavy punishment, because you also deny it."
+
+"I?"
+
+"Yes. You disown your child's heart. Don't tremble. You need not
+promise me anything, except that you will once again examine yourself
+earnestly and conscientiously. And your doing so will show itself in
+the matter for which in reality I sent for you. My brother may soon
+come, and I must arrange this with you quickly."
+
+The judge's wife then told her about Anton; how much every one
+esteemed and loved him; and how honorably and beautifully he had
+expressed himself after his return from Holland. She showed Thoma her
+mistake--how she, from upright and honorable feeling--and this
+commendation did good--was acting wrongly, both toward her parents and
+her lover.
+
+"You think," she added, "you think you cannot call your lover yours
+again, because you cannot bring him the same honor that he brings you."
+
+"Oh, how do you know everything?"
+
+"But you do not know, or have forgotten, that love does not
+calculate--so much have you, and so much have I. Collect yourself and
+build up your happiness for yourself and your lover, and your parents,
+and all who mean well and kindly by you, as I do. Hush! There's someone
+coming up stairs."
+
+The door opened; the counselor entered, and the judge's wife embraced
+him.
+
+"Welcome, dear Julius."
+
+Thoma stood at one side, and the judge's wife introduced her brother,
+the government counselor. Thoma could not answer a word. A counselor is
+a brother, and is called "dear Julius!" A government counselor was to
+her a sort of executioner, who brought people to the block. And now, as
+this courteous gentleman put his eye-glass up, she was aware that this
+was the man who had prosecuted her father. Defiance and smiles
+alternated swiftly in her manner. "Would not I, too, have defended
+myself against this man with all means in my power?" She did not
+recover her speech until, after the introduction, the counselor let his
+eyeglass fall. As if in a dream, she heard him say:
+
+"Your father made a master-stroke. He played for a high stake, but he
+won it. I wish him good fortune. Give him my greeting."
+
+"So, even the judges do not look at it so severely!" Thoma thought.
+
+The counselor opened the piano, ran his fingers over the keys, and said
+to his sister:
+
+"I shall be glad to play a duet with you again."
+
+Thoma prepared to go. The judge's wife accompanied her to the stairs,
+and begged her again not to delay making things happy and right once
+more. She should remember that we do not know how long we shall have
+our parents, and then repentance comes too late.
+
+A sudden fear overcame Thoma that she had stayed here too long, and she
+hastened homeward. At the pear-tree the Galloping Cooper met her, and
+said that he had been sent to tell her to come home quickly; that her
+mother was very ill.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER LXIV.
+
+
+Not long after Thoma had gone, her mother called Landolin and said:
+
+"Put your mind at ease and be cheerful again. You may be sure that
+Thoma will come home with pure happiness and blessing. Everything will
+be right again. She will come holding Anton's hand."
+
+Landolin was silent. He was struck by his wife's glorified expression,
+and changed voice. She closed her eyes, but after a while she said,
+laughing:
+
+"Walderjoergli! Nothing has pleased me so much for a long time as his
+greeting. When I am well again you must take me up to see him."
+
+Landolin nodded. He could not tell his wife that the news had just come
+that Walderjoergli was dying.
+
+Landolin went into the living-room and looked out of the window. He saw
+the agent of the Hail Insurance Company come out of the field with the
+bailiff and several of the town council. The agent was putting his
+note-book into his pocket. The men had evidently been looking at and
+estimating the damages done by the hail. They drew nearer to Landolin's
+house, and he greeted them pleasantly, but the agent nodded, and was
+passing by.
+
+"Well! How is it?" asked Landolin. "Have you not looked at my fields
+and valued the damages? And why without me?"
+
+The agent replied that Landolin was no longer insured; that Peter had
+discontinued in the spring.
+
+Landolin drew back and shut the window. He probably did not want to
+show the people how this news of Peter's willfulness and indiscretion
+surprised him. He sat down on the bench, and pressing his hands between
+his knees, and biting his lips, he thought: "Now they are laughing at
+me; now they can rejoice in my trouble, and the more because it is
+plain to be seen that I am of no consequence in my own house."
+
+He went into the yard, and asked for Peter. He was told that he had
+gone into the forest with the horses. He said to himself: "It is well
+that my anger has time to cool; there shall be no quarrel. They shan't
+have the satisfaction of rejoicing at our misunderstanding, but Peter
+must be made to own that he has been thoughtless."
+
+Landolin seemed to have conquered his uneasiness; and again looked out
+of the window, and saw Peter coming with a great load of wood. He
+called to him to come into the living-room, after he had unhitched and
+unloaded, for he had something to say to him. It was long before Peter
+obeyed, and Landolin, whose anger was ready to boil over again,
+preached composure to himself. At length he came, and asked what his
+father wanted.
+
+Landolin took a chair and said: "Sit down."
+
+"I can stand."
+
+"Don't speak so loud. Your mother is sick in the bedroom."
+
+"I'm not speaking loud."
+
+"Very well, then; come away with me to the porch."
+
+They went out together, and Landolin said that he was only going to
+speak in kindness, and Peter must understand it so; that he had made a
+mistake in discontinuing the hail insurance, and it should be a warning
+to him. He should see that his father had, after all, done some things
+better than he, and that he ought to confess his mistake.
+
+"Confession is not to be spoken of between us," replied Peter,
+defiantly.
+
+Landolin felt a pain in his breast, as though he had been stabbed with
+a dagger. He groaned, and said:
+
+"Only think how the people will ridicule us!"
+
+"It would be well if that were all the ground they had. They do it at
+many other things. That's enough! I won't be found fault with."
+
+"I didn't find fault with you."
+
+"Very well. You can deny that too if you like. There are no witnesses."
+
+"Peter, don't provoke me. I was only speaking to you in kindness."
+
+"I didn't see any."
+
+"Peter, don't force me to lay hands on you."
+
+"Do it. Kill me, as you did Vetturi, and then deny it."
+
+A cry sounded from the porch; but another, much shriller, rang from the
+living-room. Landolin rushed in. On the threshold of the chamber door
+lay his wife, a corpse.
+
+She had evidently heard the quarrel; had wanted to make peace; and had
+dropped dead.
+
+Peter too had come into the living-room; but Landolin motioned him
+away, and he obeyed.
+
+They laid his wife on the bed again. Landolin sat beside her a long
+time; then he went out and said they must send a messenger for Thoma.
+
+It was not long before Thoma came into the room. She sank down beside
+the body, and cried:
+
+"O mother, mother! Now, I am all alone in the world--all alone!"
+
+When she looked around for her father, he was no longer there.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER LXV.
+
+
+Thoma had often looked into the cold, stony face of death; she did not
+force herself where misery and sickness were, but she never refused a
+call. But how different it was now, when she knelt beside her mother's
+dead body! It seemed incomprehensible that the good, faithful mother,
+who was always so ready for every call, could not answer any moan of
+sorrow or cry for help. That is the bitterness of death. Thoma had
+really only learned to know her mother since trouble had broken in upon
+the house. In the days before that, she, like her father, had paid
+little attention to her quiet, modest, busy mother, although she had
+never refused her childlike respect.
+
+"Mother! Dear, dear, good mother!" cried Thoma; but that is the
+bitterness of death--it gives no answer.
+
+Thoughts about everything ran through Thoma's soul in confusion; things
+long past, and of to-day. The judge's wife lives down there in the
+beautiful room with her pictures and flowers; she is probably now
+playing duets with her brother; but out there sits Cushion-Kate. Will
+she be glad that death has entered Landolin's house? No, that she
+cannot! Down by the saw-mill sits Anton, and thinks of his beloved; and
+she now bends her head, as though her longing were fulfilled; as though
+Anton were by her side, and she could lay her heavy head on his breast.
+
+With what happy reconciling thoughts Thoma had returned home! And
+now----?
+
+"Where is Peter? Where is father? Why is he away? How did it happen so
+suddenly?" Thoma no longer remembered what she had called out to her
+father.
+
+Now she hears steps in the upper chamber; that is her father's step.
+"Why does he not come? Why is he not here?" Now she hears a fall.
+
+It seemed to Thoma hard-hearted to leave the dead; but she went,
+nevertheless. She wanted to comfort the living, and tell him what was
+in her soul. She went up the stairs; the door was locked. She knocked;
+no one answered. She called out, "Father! father!" It was the first
+time in many days that she had spoken that word.
+
+Landolin raised himself up from the floor and listened. This cry from
+his child seemed to revive him; but he answered:
+
+"You said that you were alone. I too will be alone. I am alone. For you
+I am no longer in the world."
+
+"Father, open the door! My heart is breaking."
+
+The door opened, and Thoma fell on her father's neck, and could not
+speak for sobbing. But at length she said:
+
+"Father, I wanted to ask your forgiveness."
+
+"Not you, I--I wanted to come to you. Don't speak; let me talk. Thoma,
+you were right; I did do it. I killed Vetturi, and then denied it."
+
+Thoma sank on her knees and covered her father's hard, rough hand with
+tears and kisses. The moon shone into the room; and when Thoma looked
+up and saw her father's face, it seemed to her as if glorified; it was
+no longer the face of the hard, indomitable man.
+
+"I shall say it to no one but you, and no one but you has a right to
+hear it from me. I have forgiveness to ask from no one but you; and no
+one but you can help me bear my burden, the few years yet till I am
+with your mother," said Landolin. And the strong man sobbed and cried
+as though his heart were broken.
+
+"Thoma, you thought it, and never said it to me, and never pretended to
+be friendly to me before the world; but he, he threw it in my face: and
+I did not die, but it killed your mother."
+
+He told of the quarrel with Peter, and its consequences.
+
+"Father," began Thoma, "you cannot wish that Peter should be ruined; he
+is your child. We cannot excuse to him what he has done; but we can
+help him. And the best help, the only help is, that we two, whom it has
+hurt, should forgive him."
+
+"You are right, child. You are brave-hearted. We will do it. We will
+strive to keep things from ruin. We will stand by Peter; he must not
+utterly sink. I know how a man sinks. Come, let us go to him."
+
+Father and daughter went hand in hand to Peter's room; he was not
+there. They went to the stable, and there he sat on the fodder bin,
+beside the new-born colt.
+
+If his dead mother had come to life and walked toward him, Peter would
+not have been more astonished than now, when he saw his father and
+Thoma coming hand in hand.
+
+"Peter," said the father, "I forgive you everything as I pray to God to
+be forgiven myself. And do not fret your heart out. You are not to
+blame for your mother's death; she was very sick; the doctor
+acknowledged it to me. Do speak! Do say one word!"
+
+"All right," said Peter; "all right. I thank you."
+
+"Will you not go with us?"
+
+"No! I will stay here. I am best off here. I wish I were a horse; such
+a creature has the best time, after all."
+
+"Oh come, dear brother!"
+
+"I am not your dear brother; let me alone."
+
+Father and daughter went into the living-room, and there the father
+related what his sainted wife--he sobbed aloud when he spoke this
+word--had said while Thoma was gone; and Thoma told about the judge's
+wife, and about Anton.
+
+All night long father and daughter sat by the body. At daybreak
+Landolin said, "Your mother can never see the day again."
+
+The father now tried to rest; and Thoma too went to her room, but she
+could not sleep.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER LXVI.
+
+
+The rain had passed over and had come back again, and now seemed to
+make itself quite at home in the valley and on the height.
+
+When Landolin followed his wife's coffin down the outer stairs, he
+caught, step by step, with his left hand at the wall of the house, as
+though he needed support. The school children, who were in the yard
+singing the funeral hymn, looked up at the changed man.
+
+At the burial, at which one could hardly hear the words of the pastor,
+for the pattering of the rain on the open umbrellas, there was only a
+small attendance, although she was honored and loved by the whole
+neighborhood. For at the same hour that the bells were tolling here,
+they were also tolling on the mountain in Hoechenbrand, the highest
+village in the province, for the funeral of Walderjoergli.
+
+For this reason Anton was not present. He had to lead the soldier's
+association, which had decided to go in a body and pay the last honors
+to the last Master of Justice.
+
+Among the men with long black mantles, who carried Landolin's wife's
+coffin, relieving one another from time to time, was one who from the
+house to the open grave did not move from his post. It was Tobias. In
+the short time since he had been dismissed from the farm he had grown
+old fast; and the former crafty expression of his face had disappeared.
+
+As the funeral procession left the church-yard, Cushion-Kate was seen
+kneeling on her son's grave. She had no umbrella, which even the
+poorest always has. She was kneeling on the ground, letting the rain
+pour down upon her red kerchief and her dress, and did not look up.
+
+"I would like to go to her," said Thoma; "I should think she would
+accept a kind word from us now in our sorrow; but I am afraid she will
+rave and abuse us here by mother's new-made grave."
+
+As Landolin and Thoma went past, Cushion-Kate's glance followed them,
+and she clenched her fist. Had she expected the mourners to go to her?
+
+A man struggling with a river's death-bringing waves cries
+involuntarily for help, even though he is weary of life. Thus, tossed
+on the waves of sorrow and pain, of hate and revenge, the sad, gloomy
+soul hearkens for rescue--for a storm dispelling word.
+
+"Why does no one help me?" Landolin had so often thought. Perhaps the
+poor bereaved woman there now asks, "Why does no one help me?"
+
+Through his deep, dark grief for his wife's death, his child's love
+shone like a star that he had won back. He looked at Thoma, who walked
+beside him, and over his sorrow-worn face there flashed, as it were, a
+swift gleam of joy. He heard indeed what Thoma had said; but he could
+not think of strangers now.
+
+At home, in the yard, in the living-room, in the chamber, it seemed as
+though all the lifeless things had been robbed of a nameless something,
+and as though they all were waiting for the dead to come back and greet
+them with her cheering smile!
+
+Saying nothing, his eyes fastened upon the floor, Landolin was sitting
+in his chair, when the pastor soon after presented himself again at the
+house of mourning. He spoke words of comfort, but when he had gone
+Landolin said, "He goes away again. He lives for himself; no one lives
+for me any longer."
+
+The regular stroke of the threshers awoke him from his reverie. These
+sounds were not new to him, but they startled him from his chair.
+To-day, the day of his wife's funeral, they still keep on threshing?
+But, to be sure, in this streaming rain, there is nothing else for the
+servants and day-laborers to do.
+
+His wife's brother came; it was the first time he had shown himself
+since Thoma's betrothal. He did not say much; and not until Thoma came
+in, who in composed self-forgetfulness was attending to everything,
+were friendly words spoken. It was arranged that the so-called "Black
+Mass" should be said for the departed one in the village where she was
+born.
+
+The uncle asked for Peter. He was called, and they sat down at the
+table. They ate, and when the uncle went away, Peter, who had scarcely
+spoken a word, accompanied him.
+
+"Come up again, Peter," his father called after him; but he neither
+answered nor came back.
+
+Peter's taciturnity from this day on became more marked.
+
+When the candles were lit, Landolin said:
+
+"This is her first night in the grave; I wish I lay beside her in the
+ground."
+
+Thoma tried to comfort her father, but he said, looking at the light:
+
+"You will see, Anton will come to-day when he gets back from
+Hoechenbrand. And if he does not come, do you know what I shall do?
+I'll go to him to-morrow. I haven't a day to lose. 'Twould be better if
+I were to go to-day; now."
+
+"Father, it's raining as hard as it can pour. You must not go to-day;
+you are no longer young, and must not hurt yourself."
+
+"Very well; I'll do as you say. Say good-night to Peter for me."
+
+The whole house was silent. Landolin and Thoma slept, overcome by the
+fatigue of grief. But Peter tossed in his bed for a long time, and did
+not find rest until he had resolved that he would again give all honor
+and control of affairs to his father. He would do it, but would not say
+so; for he had become again, and more than ever, "the silent Peter."
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER LXVII.
+
+
+The day awoke, but it did not seem like day; the rain had ceased, but
+thick clouds enwrapped mountain and valley in deep shade.
+
+When Landolin was again alone with Thoma, he said:
+
+"I'll not stay on the farm; I'll live with you at the mill. You will
+take good care of me, and the Dutchman is just the right comrade for me
+now. I'll not be useless or burdensome to you. Peter can take the farm
+and pay you your portion. I think he has an eye on one of Titus'
+daughters. I don't care. I've nothing against it. But I want to stay
+with you the few years I have left; and when I die, bury me beside your
+mother."
+
+Thoma nodded silently; then she said: "I would like to let the judge's
+wife know how matters are between us now. She has been very good to
+us."
+
+"That is very true; and we'll invite her to the wedding; and she must
+lead the bride in the mother's place. Your mother in heaven will
+rejoice in your happiness; she said so before, but she thought you
+would bring Anton home with you then."
+
+The bells rang, and Thoma said it was time to go to church, where mass
+was to be said for her mother's soul. Landolin and his two children
+went to church. Peter's silence couldn't strike any one, for no one
+spoke a word.
+
+When they came out of church, the clouds had disappeared, with the
+exception of some small flaky ones that crept over the mountains.
+"Thank God, the sun has come again," each one thought; and their
+sorrowful faces brightened.
+
+In the yard Peter separated from his father and sister, and gave
+orders, in brief words, for every one to go into the field, to bind and
+stack the oats that were cut, and put them up to dry; then he went into
+the stable. Landolin soon came out and ordered a horse to be saddled;
+for he wanted to ride to the saw-mill to see Anton and his father.
+
+"Yes, father; but you can't take the bay mare: its colt is only a few
+days old."
+
+"Then let me have the black horse."
+
+"Yes, father; but I really need him in the field, and----"
+
+"And what?"
+
+Peter shot a startled glance, perhaps also an evil one, at his father,
+when he spoke these words so sharply, but he repeated them still more
+sharply: "And what? Speak out. You could speak well enough a while
+ago."
+
+Peter was evidently struggling with his anger, when he replied, in a
+calm tone:
+
+"I don't know why, but the black horse isn't good for riding now. You
+can't ride him."
+
+"I can't? I can ride the wildest horse!" cried Landolin, lifting his
+clenched hand; and going to the stall, he unfastened the horse.
+
+Landolin had said these words with no double meaning, but because his
+pride was hurt by the hint that there was a horse which he was not able
+to ride. But Peter understood the words to have a different meaning; he
+thought his father had meant to say that he should be able to get the
+better of him again.
+
+The black horse was saddled; Landolin unchained his dog and mounted.
+
+Thoma had come out into the yard, and her father gave her his hand,
+saying, "If we were not in mourning you should fasten a sprig of
+rosemary on my coat with a red ribbon." The cows were just then let out
+to drink, and Landolin cried, "Thoma, you shall have the prize cow. May
+God keep you! Peter, give me your hand. I'll often come up from the
+saw-mill to see you."
+
+He urged his horse forward, so that it reared and struck sparks from
+the paving-stones at the very spot where Vetturi had fallen.
+
+Landolin mastered it with a strong hand. His son and daughter watched
+him from the gateway as he let the horse prance down the road; their
+father appeared again in all his old stateliness; and where the road
+bends into the forest toward the valley he turned around and lifted his
+hat in greeting.
+
+As Thoma turned again toward the house an open carriage drove up from
+the other side, and in it sat the judge's wife with her brother the
+counselor. They stopped and got out. They had come to comfort the
+mourners, and the judge's wife heard, to her great joy, on what mission
+Landolin had gone.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER LXVIII.
+
+
+While Landolin was riding to the valley, Peter had saddled the other
+horse for himself, had dressed himself in his Sunday clothes, and now,
+wrapped in his mantle and noticed by no one, took the road to the city,
+across the bridge that was almost covered by the water.
+
+At the Crown Inn he ordered a pint of beer without dismounting. Then he
+trotted up the opposite hill to the plateau where Titus lived.
+
+Peter did not look around much, but once he stopped to observe a
+strange sight; for on the rocks by the roadside were a large number of
+hawks. There were evidently young ones among them, whom the old ones
+were talking to, and encouraging to fly. They tried it, and in their
+outcries there must have been great pride and happiness; the nest was
+so narrow, the air is so wide, and prey that can be caught and killed
+is flying everywhere. And when the young ones have learned to fly, they
+care no more for the old ones.
+
+"Where are you going so soon?" Peter was asked. The questioner was
+Fidelis, his former servant, who was now in Titus' service.
+
+"Glad I've met you. Is Titus at home, and----?"
+
+He was probably about to say, "and his daughter too." But he kept that
+part of it back. Fidelis said "Yes;" and without wasting another word
+on him, Peter rode on.
+
+Titus' farmhouse was not so isolated as Landolin's; there were
+several cottages near by. Titus had bought the houses and fields
+from----emigrants, and had added them to his farm. The gates were
+wide open, and things were going on merrily inside. A large hog had
+just been killed, and Titus' daughter stood beside it with her sleeves
+rolled up.
+
+"There comes Peter of Reutershoefen," said the butcher, taking a knife
+from between his teeth. "What does he want so soon? His mother was only
+buried yesterday."
+
+Peter called out welcome to Titus' daughter, and jumping nimbly from
+his horse, he held out his hand to her. But she said her hands were
+wet; she could not give him one; and she disappeared.
+
+Peter went into the living-room, where Titus sat at a large table,
+figuring on some papers that lay before him.
+
+"Oh, that's you!" he called out to Peter; "you're come just in time for
+butcher's soup. Sit down."
+
+Peter did not use much ceremony, but told his wish. His mother was
+dead; his father had gone to see Anton to-day to straighten out matters
+for Thoma again; and was going to give up the farm and live with her at
+the saw-mill. "So," said Peter, in conclusion, "you know what I want. I
+need a wife."
+
+"You go ahead quickly," replied Titus; "but I have no objection. Have
+you already spoken to Marianne?"
+
+"Not exactly; but I guess it'll be all right."
+
+"I think so too. Shall I call her?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Titus sent a maid for his daughter; but she sent back, asking her
+father to "come to her for a few minutes."
+
+"What does that mean?" said Titus. He was not used to have his children
+oppose any of his orders. "Excuse me," he said to Peter; and left the
+room.
+
+Peter felt cornered: how would it be if he had to ride home dejected?
+Perhaps he had a suspicion of what was going on between Titus and his
+daughter; for she said:
+
+"Father, do you want me to take Peter? Yesterday his mother was buried,
+and to-day he goes courting."
+
+Titus declared that that was of no consequence, and when Marianne began
+to express a dislike, an aversion, to Peter, he interrupted her
+peremptorily.
+
+"Peter is a substantial farmer. So there's nothing more to be said
+about it. You must take him. Put on another dress and make haste to
+come in."
+
+He returned to Peter, and said, "The matter is arranged."
+
+But Marianne said to the old maid-servant in her bedroom, "I take him
+because I must; but he shall pay for it. He shall find out who I am."
+
+She entered the room. Peter held out his hand to her, simply saying
+that this was only for the present; that to-morrow or Sunday his father
+would come and ask for her hand in the usual form.
+
+"Yes, your father," interrupted Titus. "Does he know that you are
+here?"
+
+"It isn't necessary for my father to know; the farm has been in my
+hands for a long time, and I've only let him appear to be of some
+consequence before the world."
+
+"Yes; but does your father know that I was one of those who said
+guilty?"
+
+"No, he need never know it."
+
+While they were speaking a man came with the message that Peter must
+come immediately to Anton's saw-mill, for Landolin was in great danger.
+
+Just as the butcher's soup was served, and Peter's mouth was watering
+for it, he was obliged to leave.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER LXIX.
+
+
+The wild water rushes from mountain to valley. It flows and splashes
+through all the ditches. Even through the middle of the road a small
+brook has torn its way. It is all so merry, and to-morrow it will not
+be there.
+
+In the fields men work busily; every year they cut the grass and grain.
+The forest trees grow many years, but at last the axe fells or the
+storm uproots them. Only the earth, in which men are buried, remains.
+
+Down in the rapids, not far from the Devil's-kettle, lies an uprooted
+pine. No one can pull it out. In the summer-time the ground caves in;
+in winter the ice is too slippery. So this tree had stood many, many
+years by the whirlpool, and had forced its roots into the rocky bed.
+The water sprinkled upon it from the falls had nourished it so richly;
+and now it is done with decaying----. "What a pity for the fine,
+valuable tree!" was really Landolin's last thought.
+
+The black horse neighed loudly, then looked back at his master, who
+held the reins so loose. Landolin straightened himself in the saddle
+and tightened his hold on the bridle. See, there comes Cushion-Kate,
+with a bundle of dry twigs. Landolin nodded approvingly at his own
+resolution.
+
+"Wait; I'm coming," he cried to Cushion-Kate. She stopped and threw
+down the bundle of wood. Landolin sprang from his horse, and holding it
+by the bridle, he said:
+
+"Kate, my wife is dead."
+
+"I suppose so; they buried her."
+
+"I want to talk kindly to you. Who knows how long either you or I shall
+live?" And in deep contrition he went on, in a low tone: "You have lost
+your son, and I am almost persecuted to death by my son. I suffer----"
+
+A devilish laugh interrupted him. The dog snuffed around the old woman.
+Landolin called him away, and continued:
+
+"I would like to do something for you."
+
+"Then hang yourself!" cried Cushion-Kate. Hastening to her bundle of
+twigs, she unfastened the string.
+
+"There, there you have it! Hang yourself on the tree there. That's the
+only thing you can do for me. I want to see you hanging."
+
+Landolin mounted his horse again, and rode away. He did not look
+around. He did not see how Cushion-Kate, with the cord in her hand,
+hastened after him through the forest.
+
+Landolin reached the valley. The stream has risen above its bed, but
+there is the bridge, and just across is Anton's saw-mill.
+
+The horse stepped gayly into the water that scarcely reached its knee.
+The dog waded by its side, and often looked up at his master, as though
+begging him to turn back. But Landolin rode on and on, and did not look
+around when it splashed so strangely behind him. He reached the bridge
+over which the water was already rushing. Just then something like a
+noose wound itself about his neck. He looked round. Cushion-Kate was
+clinging beside him to the horse. A struggle, a wrench, splash! and
+Cushion-Kate's red kerchief appeared for a moment; then nothing more
+was to be seen. Only the dog swam through the roaring waters, down to
+the mill, and there sprang on land.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER LXX.
+
+
+The judge's wife and her brother were just about entering their
+carriage to return home, when a messenger came from Anton to say that
+Thoma and Peter must come immediately to the mill. The messenger told
+them that Anton had rescued the ex-bailiff from the water with great
+danger to his own life, and that the horse was drowned.
+
+"But my father! Is he alive?" asked Thoma.
+
+The messenger said that when he left they were trying to restore him,
+and he seemed to show signs of life.
+
+The carriage was quickly turned round, for her guests wished to
+accompany Thoma. Word was sent to the field for Peter to follow at
+once.
+
+They drove down into the valley as quickly as the roads, torn and
+damaged by the water, would allow. In the stream was a boat, and Anton
+called from it:
+
+"He is alive!"
+
+The boat had to be taken far up the stream, in order that the current
+might drive it to the other shore. Floating pieces of rafts and forest
+trees with roots and branches made the journey across long and
+difficult.
+
+"Give me an oar--I've seen how it's done," begged Thoma. Anton did so;
+but the oar soon escaped from her hand and floated away.
+
+"Be brave and strong, as you always are," was all that Anton said to
+her.
+
+When they reached the shore she hastily begged her friends to let her
+go alone to her father. She could not say that she wished to keep her
+father from seeing the counselor, although he was so kind and friendly.
+
+Thoma hastened to her father. The old miller was with him, and
+fortunately the physician also. The dog, on whose head Landolin's hand
+was resting, stood by the bed. The miller was unfastening the spiked
+collar, so that Landolin should not prick himself.
+
+The physician motioned to Thoma to be quiet and keep at a distance, and
+she heard her father moan out:
+
+"Where is she? Kate! Kate! Rope round the neck!"
+
+Thoma could control herself no longer, but ran forward, kneeled at her
+father's bed and caught his hand.
+
+"'Tis good that you are here. That's right," said Landolin. "Come here,
+Anton: I have brought her for you, and--the forest is yours, and the
+prize cow, and----"
+
+He seemed to find no more words; he closed his eyes, but he breathed
+calmly, and the physician made a sign of encouragement.
+
+Just then the door opened. Landolin opened his eyes, and the judge's
+wife entered.
+
+"Oh, that's good!" cried Landolin, but suddenly perceiving the
+counselor, he raised himself up, and screamed:
+
+"Keep off, glass eye! Keep off! Thoma! Anton!"
+
+He breathed his last. When Peter came he found only his father's dead
+body.
+
+On the day of Landolin's funeral, Cushion-Kate's body floated to the
+shore. She had a rope tightly clasped in her hand.
+
+                           *   *   *   *   *
+
+To-day Peter is master at the farm, but he is only called so; for he
+is, they say, not master of a penny. He married Titus' daughter, and
+she is said to be sharp-tongued; some even say a shrew.
+
+Anton Armbruster is Burgomaster of Rothenkirch; and Thoma wears her
+honors with becoming dignity.
+
+
+
+                                THE END.
+
+
+
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