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.