Now all this time the grandfather went on living with Careful and
Bluster in the glade—only life had taken a very sad turn for the old
man. His grandsons ceased to trouble about him, nor would they stay near
him. They bade him neither “Good-morning” nor “Good-night,” and only
went about their own affairs and listened to the goblins they harboured,
the one in his pouch and the other in his bosom.
Every day Careful brought more bees from the forest, felled timber,
shaped rafters, and gradually built a new cabin. He carved himself ten
tallies, and every day he counted and reckoned over and over again when
these tallies would be filled up.
As for Bluster, he went hunting and reiving, bringing home game and
furs, plunder and treasure; and one day he even brought along two slaves
whom he had taken, so that they might work for the brothers and wait
upon them.
All this was very hard and disagreeable for the old man, and harder and
more disagreeable still were the looks he got from his grandsons. What
use had they for an old man who would not be served by the slaves, but
disgraced his grandsons by cutting wood and drawing water from the well
for himself? At last there wasn’t a thing about the old man that didn’t
annoy his grandsons, even this, that every day he would put a log on the
sacred fire.
Old Witting saw very well whither all this would lead, and that very
soon they would be thinking of getting rid of him altogether. He did not
care so much about his life, because life was not much use to him, but
he was sorry to die before seeing Quest once more, the dear lad who was
the joy of his old age.
One evening—and it was the very evening when Quest was so troubled in
his mind thinking of his grandfather—Careful said to Bluster: “Come
along, brother, let’s get rid of grandfather. You have weapons. Wait for
him by the well and kill him.”
Now Careful said this because he specially wanted the old cabin at all
costs, so as to put up beehives on that spot. “I can’t,” replied
Bluster, whose heart had not grown so hard, amidst bloodshed and
robbery, as Careful’s among his riches and his tallies.
But Careful would not give over, because the imp in his bag went on
whispering and nagging. The imp in his pouch knew very well that Careful
would be the first to put the old man away, and so gain him great credit
with Rampogusto.
Careful tried hard to talk over Bluster, but Bluster could not bring
himself to kill his grandfather with his own hand. So at last they
agreed and arranged that they would that very night burn down the old
man’s hut—burn it down with the old man inside!
When all was quiet in the glade, they sent out the slaves to watch the
traps in the woods that night. But the brothers crept up softly to
Witting’s cabin, shut the outer door tight with a thick wedge, so that
the old man might not escape from the flames, and then set fire to the
four corners of the house....
When all was done they went away and away into the hills so as not to
hear their poor old grandfather crying out for help. They made up their
minds to go over the whole of the mountain as far as they could, and not
to come back until next day, when all would be over, and their
grandfather and the cabin would be burnt up together.
So they went, and the flames began to lick upwards slowly round the
corners. But the rafters were of seasoned walnut, hard as stone, and
though the fire licked and crept all round them it could not catch
properly, and so it was late at night before the flames took hold of the
roof.
Old Witting awoke, opened his eyes and saw that the roof was ablaze over
his head. He got up and went to the door, and when he found that it was
fastened with a heavy wedge he knew at once whose doing it was.
“Oh, my children! my poor darlings!” said the old man, “you have taken
from your hearts to add to your wretched tallies; and behold, your
tallies are not even full, and there are many notches still lacking; but
your hearts are empty to the bottom already, since you could burn your
own grandfather and the cabin where you were born.”
That was all the thought that Father Witting gave to Careful and
Bluster. After that he thought neither good nor bad about them, nor did
he grieve over them further, but went and sat down quietly to wait for
death.
He sat on the oak chest and meditated upon his long life; and whatever
there had been in it, there was nothing he was sorry for save only this,
that Quest was not with him in his last hour—Quest, his darling child,
for whom he had grieved so much.
So he sat still, while the roof was already blazing away like a torch.
The rafters burned and burned, the ceiling began to crack. It blazed,
cracked, then gave way on either side of the old man, and rafters and
ceiling crashed down amid the flames into the cabin. The flames billowed
round Witting, the roof gaped above his head. Already he saw the dawn
pale in the sky before sunrise. Old Witting rose to his feet, raised his
hands to heaven, and so waited for the flames to carry him away from
this world, the old man and his old homestead together.
V
Quest worried terribly that night, and when morning broke he went to the
spring to cool his burning face.
The sun was just up in the sky when Quest reached the spring, and when
he came there he saw a light shining in the water. It shone, it rose,
and lo! beside the spring and before Quest stood a lovely youth in
golden raiment. It was All-Rosy.
Quest started with joy, and said:
“My little lord All-Rosy bright, how I have longed for you! Do tell me
what you told me then that I must do? Here I have been racking my brains
and tormenting myself and calling on all my wits for a year and a
day—and I cannot remember the truth!”
As Quest said this, All-Rosy rather crossly shook his head and his
golden curls.
“Eh, boy, boy! I told you to stay with your grandfather till you had
rendered him the love you owe him, and not to leave him till he left
you,” said All-Rosy.
And then he went on:
“I thought you were wiser than your brothers, and there you are the most
foolish of the three. Here you have been racking your brains and calling
on your wits to help you for a year and a day so that you might remember
the truth; and if you had listened to your heart when it told you on the
threshold of your cabin to turn back and not to leave your old
grandfather—why then, you silly boy, you would have had the truth, even
without wits!”
Thus spoke All-Rosy. Once more he crossly shook his head with the golden
curls; then he took his golden cloak about him and vanished.
Shamed and troubled, Quest remained alone beside the spring, and from
between the stones he heard the imp giggling—the hobgoblin, quite small,
misshapen, and horned with big horns. The little wretch was pleased
because All-Rosy had shamed Quest, who always gave himself such
righteous airs; but when Quest roused himself from his first amazement
he called out joyfully:
“Now I’ll just wash quickly and then fly to my dear old grandfather.”
This he said and knelt by the spring to wash. Quest leaned down to reach
the water, leaned down too far, lost his balance, and fell into the
spring.
Fell into the spring and was drowned....