"When after nine years he had been free for half a year, and he came
home and was always laughing in the air, then I told it him myself."
"How did you say it to him?"
"'Father Kickel, your daughter-in-law and your grandson Anderl are
still alive, and all is well with them.'"
"And what did he say to that?"
"'So,' said he, 'they are still alive? And I had always dreamt that
they were all dead, all! God, what tales the young people tell!' And
then he laughed again."
"Ah--mad then!"
"It must have been so," said my companion. "For a while after that he
tried to earn his bread as a farm-servant, but later on, as he couldn't
succeed in that, he came on the parish. As a rule, one saw nothing
amiss with him, but many a time one did--many a time one did."
"You knew him quite well?" I asked the young fellow.
"Well, naturally," was his answer; "he was my grandfather."