In which are described the joys of long-parted but
finally reunited kinsmen, and every one learns to
know exactly how he stands.
But even if Michal had wished to take off the clothes there was no
time to do so, for the housekeeper now said that supper was upon the
table, and that the master of the house awaited his guests in the
dining-room. Michal meekly bowed her head on her husband's shoulder,
and allowed herself to be led into the presence of the great and
terrible man.
The dining-room was in every respect like the other rooms. It had
just as many angles and arches, and was whitewashed in precisely the
same way. In the middle stood a table laid for three persons, each
cover consisting of two pewter dishes, one on the top of the other.
There were also two big-bellied, glazed jugs, with pewter lids, a
chased silver tankard for one of the guests, a Venetian crystal
glass for the other, and a wooden mug for the master of the house.
The master of the house already stood beside the table with his
hands resting on the back of his chair. He was a tall, commanding
figure, with very broad shoulders. He wore a brown Polish jacket
with long sleeves, a broad, buckled girdle, and long jack-boots. His
features were hard and angular, his hair short and bristly; but his
beard, already grizzled, hung down in two long flaps, the ends of
which were stuck into his girdle. His look was grave and tranquil,
but without the slightest trace of human feeling.
Michal felt that her husband's hand was trembling as he approached
the master of the house, though he made superhuman efforts to appear
calm.
"Peace and blessing rest upon this house!" stammered Henry,
whereupon the old man sighed deeply but without returning the
salutation.
"Is your reverence the pastor of Great Leta?" It was the first time
he had addressed Henry. His voice was deep and sonorous as if it
proceeded from a bronze statue, his whole body seemed to reëcho the
sound.
"I have been elected the successor of the late pastor. Forgive me,
master, for causing you so much inconvenience!"
"Your visit is nothing unusual," returned the old man, "the late
pastor of Leta was often a guest in this sad house," and he
thereupon beckoned to his guests to be seated.
"This is my wife," stammered Henry.
The old man did not even affect the bare semblance of cordiality. He
coldly said: "Women also, nowadays, seem to love sad spectacles."
Michal, however, before sitting down, folded her hands on the back
of the chair, and piously inclining her head said grace.
The old man wrinkled his eyebrows and turned his face away.
Then they sat down to eat.
Nothing but vegetables was served, and after the vegetables came
cheese. No flesh was to be seen, not a dish was there which required
the assistance of a knife. Of beer and wine, however, there was no
stint. The master of the house urged no one to eat, he left that to
the housekeeper. She poured out for Michal beer and wine. Michal
begged for water instead, but this they would not give her. They
told her that the water of Zeb gave skin diseases to those who
drank of it. So she had to sip beer.
During the meal no one broke silence, but after the first cup was
drunk, the master of the house raised his voice.
"Did the rascals plunder your reverence as well?"
"We ourselves only escaped as by a miracle."
"They will receive their reward. Your reverence will see them the
day after to-morrow."
Henry stared at him with astonishment.
"Yes, the soldiers have captured six of them, and these with some
others will be executed the day after to-morrow."
Henry looked blankly at the old man, whose sharp eyes took in his
astonishment at once.
"What! has not your reverence been sent here on purpose to give the
last consolations of religion to those of the poor sinners who are
of the same communion as yourself?"
Henry's face grew pale.
The old man guessed his thoughts.
"Such an office is no doubt none of the most pleasant. Not every
clergyman likes to be at the side of the poor sinners during such a
sad spectacle. The Franciscans of Eperies are sent to shrive the
Catholics, the pastors of Great Leta to comfort the Protestants.
Indeed this office is part of the cure. On every such sad occasion
the pastor of Great Leta has to sit in the felons' car by my side
with the delinquents opposite. He is therefore a frequent guest at
my house."
To Henry it seemed as if the house were falling about his ears. He
had known nothing of all this till now. He began to wipe away the
sweat from his brow.
"Did not your reverence know then that the black cassock of the
pastor of Great Leta and the red mantle of the vihodar of Zeb go
together? Did the Consistory conceal the fact from your reverence
when they recapitulated the emoluments of the benefice--a denarius
for each baptism, a Mary-florin for each burial, and a Kremnitz
ducat for the last sacraments administered to each poor felon?"
"To tell you the truth," stammered Henry, "I did not go very closely
into the question of the temporalities. I only thought about my
spiritual duties."
"Then if you have not come hither to act as chaplain at the
execution of the law's sentence, to what other circumstances does my
poor house owe the honor of your society?"
Michal threw Henry an encouraging look, signifying that now was the
time to confess everything.
"I will tell you my story, master," began Henry. "Ten years ago I
fled from my father's house. My father loved me. He was good to me.
I was his only son, and I forsook him, nevertheless, because I did
not want to follow his trade, because I strove after higher things.
It was my wish to become a scholar and a clergyman. For the last ten
years I have not let my father know where I was. During that time I
have endured much misery; but I have also been compensated for it. I
have made progress in the path of learning. I was the first among my
fellow-scholars. The high-born sons of great statesmen and churchmen
sat on the same bench with me, with me the poor mendicant student;
but no one has ever sat before me. I outstripped them all. I was the
favorite of the professor and the presbyters. When I mounted the
pulpit to preach, the people strained their ears so as not to lose a
single word, and no one ever went to sleep when I was speaking. When
scarcely four-and-twenty years of age I was elected a regular
minister, and the superintendent confirmed the choice. I was not
even obliged to officiate beforehand as chaplain in the usual way.
'Twas the greatest distinction which could have befallen a
theologian. In the examination which preceded my consecration, my
replies were such that the whole Consistory cried unanimously,
'Eminentissime!' And my benefactor, my protector, the famous, most
learned Dr. David Fröhlich, crowned the efforts of my laborious life
by giving me his only daughter to wife. I then resolved to seek out
in his solitude my long-deserted father, who thought me dead, and
was passing his declining years in dreary abandonment. I said to my
beloved wife, 'Let us go and seek out my poor old father, let us
present ourselves as traveling strangers and take him by surprise.
We owe our first visit to him.' My beloved agreed to my wishes. On
the day after the wedding we set out to visit my father, but robbers
waylaid our caravan and took from us our horse and mule. We
ourselves, guided by good men, escaped by making a long detour over
the mountains, after which we continued our journey by sledge in
wretched plight. Night overtook us. We found the gates of the city
closed. We were too much afraid of robbers to pass the night
outside. We perceived a house in front of the town. We begged for
admittance and it was granted, and now we beg pardon for the trouble
we have caused."
The master of the house kept his eyes fixed on the lips of the
speaker till he had quite finished.
"Then a mere chance has brought your reverence hither?"
Henry's lips refused to say yes, he merely nodded with his head, as
if, forsooth, it were not as great a sin to lie with the whole head
as with the mouth alone!
"Then until your reverence has received your father's blessing, you
cannot, I presume, taste of the earthly joys of wedded life?"
inquired the master of the house, thereby betraying not only his
acquaintance with ecclesiastical ordinances but the possession of
the art of expressing himself politely.
"True, but such consent I hope to obtain this very day, for I am now
in my father's house. My name is Henry Catsrider," and with that the
young man rose from his seat.
But the lady, in a transport of conjugal loyalty and devotion, threw
herself at the father's feet, seized his hand and kissed it.
She actually kissed the hand of the vihodar, the headsman. With
glowing, cleaving lips she kissed the hand which had never been
kissed.