The wind whistled over the stubble, and when they awoke in the morning,
the first snow lay high upon the crest of the mountain. The powerful
autumn sun soon melted it, and laughing rills ran down through all the
little channels to the river in the valley.
It was St. AEgidius Sunday, shortly before church time, when Tobias went
to the farmer's wife, who was sitting in the living-room, and said:
"Mistress, I've come to say good-bye to you, and thank you for all your
kindness through these many years. You know I've been dismissed." The
farmer's wife nodded. "By Peter," continued Tobias, "by Peter, not by
the farmer; that I see plainly enough, though he did give his consent.
But he isn't of any account any more. For your sake, Mistress, I wish
the house no evil as long as you live. I've deserved to have this
happen to me; it serves me quite right. Why did I lie, and say before
the court that Vetturi threw a stone at the Master? Why, the shaky
fellow couldn't have lifted one of those paving-stones. It serves me
right; and Peter is smart. He carries things with a high hand. He knows
that I can't say this to anybody but you, and you knew it before.
Wherever else I'd say it, they'd laugh at me, and despise me into the
bargain. Now good-bye, and I hope you'll see many happy years yet."
A cold shudder crept over the farmer's wife. Her hands trembled and her
head moved from one side of the great chair to the other. But at length
she controlled herself and said:
"I beg you, for my sake, don't say this to any one else. Give me your
hand on it."
Tobias hesitated, but he could not withstand her imploring look. So he
grasped her cold hand.
"Where are you going when you leave here?" asked she.
"You are the first that's asked me that. What do the others care for a
dismissed servant, even though he has served them so many years? I'm
going to my brother, the teamster's."
"Take him my greeting. And you shall soon come back again--I'll fix
that."
"No, I think not. I'll not come back again. I've laid by something, and
perhaps I can get another place. I won't go to Titus, but perhaps Anton
will take me when he comes home. So again farewell."
"Farewell, and keep up a brave heart."
The farmer's wife looked through the window as Tobias, with his
brother's help, lifted his great chest into the wagon. It looked almost
like a coffin. She stepped back from the window, and called a maid to
help her to her bed.
Landolin and Thoma were frightened when they were summoned to her
bedside. She lay with her back to them, and without turning around she
said, "Don't be frightened; I'll soon be all right again." Landolin
knew in a moment that Tobias had been doing mischief here, so he said:
"I shouldn't have let the rascally fellow come up to see you alone.
Before my eyes he wouldn't have dared to pour his stupid spite into
your--into your good heart."
Such an affectionate word caused his wife to turn over and grasp her
husband's hand. Holding her hand in one of his, and stroking it gently
with the other, Landolin continued:
"Yes, one only finds an unfaithful man out when it's too late. When a
servant is discharged, his hidden meanness shows itself. Tobias has the
impudence to say that he invented a lie for my sake. It's infamous how
malicious the greatest simpleton can yet be. But, thank God, what he
says won't make any difference with you."
His wife looked at him with glistening eyes; and casting a sidelong
glance at Thoma, Landolin continued:
"I must beg Peter's pardon; I didn't know him. He's smart; smarter
than--than I knew. We send Tobias away, and that is the best proof that
we, thank God, have nothing to hide. But I've talked enough. Not
another angry word shall escape my lips. You know I'm going to
confession to-day?"
The farmer's wife lay perfectly quiet. She felt chilly, but she begged
the family to go to church; for the bells were just ringing.
Landolin went, and not without great self-satisfaction. To be sure, it
was not a difficult matter to deceive his confiding wife; but Thoma had
received a hit at the same time. She deserved it for her obstinate
hard-heartedness; for of course she must know in what direction the
praise of Peter led.
Thoma stayed with her mother, who prayed quietly.