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.