"Be quiet, Landolin! The time for that has gone by," said Walderjoergli
in a commanding tone; and laid his broad hand between the combatants.
They stood still; but their chests heaved, and they looked down at the
ground like chidden boys.
The ancient cry of defiance, "Hutadi!"--no one knows exactly what it
means; probably 'Beware' or 'Take care of yourself'--was formerly
regarded as a challenge which no one could refuse. When it rang out,
whether from forest or from meadow, whoever heard it must give battle
to him who called.
In his youth, Walderjoergli had been considered the readiest and most
powerful of combatants; but in his riper years he had become one of the
most even-tempered and circumspect of men, so that he was elected
Master of Justice for the forest republic in the mountain; which, as an
independent peasant state, acknowledged no lord but the emperor.
Joergli settled lawsuits, decreed punishments, and in conjunction with
the council, apportioned the taxes; and all without appeal.
Joergli was the only survivor of that last embassy which the forest
peasants sent to the emperor at Vienna, to protest against being made
subject to any prince. They desired to remain a free peasantry of the
empire. Joergli insisted that he was ninety-three years of age, but it
was universally believed that he was already over a hundred; for the
church registers had been burned with the church and parsonage in
Napoleon's time.
The thought flashed through Landolin's mind that Walderjoergli could,
with one stroke, reinstate him in all his old honor; so he said:
"From you, Master of Justice, I am glad to receive commands. All
reverence is due you; and besides, you were my grandfather's dearest
friend."
He laid his hand on his heart, and hoped that Walderjoergli would grasp
it; but the old man looked sternly at him from under his bushy,
snow-white brows, and said:
"How is your wife?"
Landolin could scarcely answer. What did this mean? His health was not
asked after! Had his wife then suddenly acquired any peculiar
distinction? Did the old man ask after her only to avoid asking after
Landolin's own health?
He stammered out an answer; and the old man sent a greeting by him to
his wife, who was "a good, honest housewife." Landolin smiled. If
nothing is given him, still it's well that one of his family gets
something, for then he too has a share in it.
Landolin informed the bystanders that Walderjoergli's family and his own
were the oldest in the country, for theirs had been the only two farmer
families that had survived the war with Sweden. While he was talking,
he noticed that nobody listened to him; but he went on, and finished
what he was saying with his eyes fixed on the ground.
The judge's wife had approached, and Titus gained an advantage by
introducing her, and saying:
"This is the benefactress of the whole neighborhood."
Joergli took the lady's delicate hand in his large one, and said:
"I've heard of you before. You are a noble woman; it is well. In old
times women were not of so much account as they are now. But it is
quite right now. And is that your son? Did you not once come to see me
when you were a student? You have behaved yourself nobly."
He clapped the lieutenant on the shoulder, and every one was astonished
that Walderjoergli still talked so well, and knew everything that was
going on. It was considered a great honor to be spoken to by him.
Titus said very cleverly what an honor it was that Walderjoergli had
come to the celebration, and begged that he would ascend the platform
and speak a few pithy words to the assembly. The judge's wife added
that it would be a precious memory to old and young, to children and
children's children, if they could say that they had heard the last
Master of Justice speak.
Walderjoergli looked at Titus and the judge's wife with a penetrating,
almost contemptuous glance; for he was not vain, nor did he wish to be
considered wise, and play the part of a prophet; so he shook his great
head, and stuck his thumbs into the arm-holes of his long red vest, but
straightened himself to his full height, and his eyes sparkled, when
the district forester, who knew exactly how to deal with Joergli, added
that it would be well if the clergy were not allowed to entirely
monopolize everything, even the soldier's associations, and to dedicate
the flag; it would be particularly appropriate that a man like Joergli
should drive the nail that fastened the flag to the staff: the Emperor
Joseph would certainly have approved of that.
When the Emperor Joseph was mentioned it seemed as if a new life were
awakened in Joergli. Around Emperor Joseph, who was venerated like a
holy martyr, were gathered recollections of Joergli's father, which he
almost considered events in his own life.
He clenched his hands, and raising his arms, said, "Very well; so let
it be."
He was led to the platform, and boundless were the acclamations of joy
when he appeared, supported on the right hand by Titus, and on the left
by the lieutenant.
There fell such a silence that the people noticed the whirring of the
wings of a pair of doves which flew over the speaker's stand. Pointing
to them, Joergli cried:
"There they fly! One says not to the other, 'We will turn this way or
that.' Their flight agrees by nature. So it is. Agreeing by nature--"
He paused, and seemed unable to proceed. The figure had evidently led
him off from what he meant to say. He looked around perplexed, and
seemed not to be able to speak another word--yes, even to have
forgotten that he stood upon the platform.
His two companions above, and the audience below, stood in painful
embarrassment. It was wrong to have brought an old man of a hundred on
the stand.
Just then the district forester, who stood near, said audibly, "Emperor
Joseph."
Joergli opened his mouth wide and nodded. Yes, now he had his
guiding-star again. Almost inaudibly, and in a very confused manner, he
spoke of the Emperor Joseph and of the new emperor. Only this much was
plain--that he considered the present emperor as the direct successor
and continuer of the Emperor Joseph's struggles against the Pope.
Titus handed Joergli a nail, and the lieutenant gave him a hammer. He
nailed the flag to the flag-staff, and this widely visible act was more
than the best speech; and he left the stand amid cheers and the sounds
of trumpets.
He immediately called for his wagon. He wished to go home, and no one
dared urge him to remain.
The four-horse wagon drove up the meadow. Landolin pushed his way up to
it, and said, "Joergli, I will go home with you. Take me along."
"Give my greetings to your wife," said Joergli, turning away from him.
He let himself be helped into the wagon, and then drove away. The
wheels were hardly heard on the meadow, and the people on both sides
saluted reverently, as they made way for him.
"How glad I should have been, if I could have sat in the wagon beside
him!" thought Landolin.
No one ever prayed--no one ever offered to an angel,--to a saint,--more
childlike petitions than these--"Take me with you; deliver me from this
misery,"--which had just passed Landolin's lips. But in these days the
best are no longer good, and have no pity.
When Joergli had gone the merriment began anew. They invited one another
to drink, and new groups were soon formed. Only Landolin was not
invited. He stood alone. Stop! Landolin struck his hand on his pocket,
and the money jingled. With that a man can call a comrade who will talk
with him better than any one else, and make him forget his cares.
He turned away from the meadow, and went to the city side of the Sword
Inn. There were no guests there to-day. An old servant brought him
wine. He drank alone, and had his glass refilled again and again.
As he still wanted every one to consider him of great importance, he
explained to the old waitress that he was going to a bathing place for
his health pretty soon. There they wouldn't let a man drink anything
but mineral water, and so he was going to take plenty of wine before he
went.
The old waitress said that was wise, and then returned to the
illustrated paper which she had brought down from the Casino.
It was quiet in the cool room. Only a canary bird in his cage twittered
awhile, and then began whistling half of the song "Who never on a spree
did go."
Landolin frequently looked up at the bird and smiled; until,
remembering Walderjoergli, he murmured, "Give my greeting to your wife."