Up the same road over which Landolin had passed the night after the
celebration, now came, on this clear autumn Sunday, the judge's wife. A
scoffer, who knew her thoughts, might have said to her: Not the
intoxication of wine alone makes a man talk to himself, and changes
his view of everything; and, worse still, the recovery from an
over-indulgence in exciting thought is, perhaps, even bitterer.
This might have been said, and still the lady would not have stopped in
her walk. Obeying a voice from within and not from without, she felt
that she ought no longer delay in an effort to establish peace and
quietness in Landolin's house, and peace between them and Cushion-Kate.
She knew right well, for she had often enough experienced it, that a
man sets little value on unsolicited help; yes, even frequently refuses
it. But she also knew that her advice, even when repulsed, had had
effect, and worked for good; and, above all things, she felt herself
within the circle of the duties that spring from the union of man to
man. As in war the wounded is no enemy, so in peace the sufferer is no
stranger.
So the lady went up the hill. The church bells were ringing for the
noon-day service; but in her ears rang the sound of a bell whose metal
was not yet molten, and for which, who knows when a tower will be
built!
The lady's thoughts by no means hovered in the so-called "higher
regions"--quite the reverse. She thought of the nearest and most
every-day subjects.
As she stood by the road, she saw a four-horse spring-wagon coming down
the hill on a trot. A cow, grazing by the wayside, sprang, frightened,
into the middle of the road, and ran along before the wagon, terrified,
and with difficulty; at last the coachman rose in his seat, and hit her
with his long whip, so that she turned aside, stood awhile, staring
after the dust-enveloped monster with the four horses, and then went on
grazing.
Smilingly the lady thought that this might be given as an example to
the villagers. Turn aside, and you will be free from fear of what comes
rolling behind you, threatening destruction.
But one must not give country-folk an illustration from their own
immediate surroundings. Clergymen understand this; or perhaps hold by
tradition that only strange, powerful figures have any effect. This is
why they so like to speak of the storm-tossed ship on the sea, of the
palmy oases in the desert; when neither they, nor their hearers, have
ever seen either.
Engaged in these thoughts, Madam Pfann had reached the plateau, and
came in sight of Landolin's house. The shingled roof glittered in the
mid-day sun, and the tree on the east side was standing full of nuts.
Although Landolin, who was sitting on the bench before the house, saw
the lady coming, he did not move, but kept on cracking nuts in his
hand, and shelling out the kernels. Not until she had drawn very near
did he rise and say:
"Good-day, Madam. Will you not rest here a little while?"
"Yes; I was just coming to see you."
"May I ask what news you bring me?"
"Properly speaking, none. Or perhaps--I hope----
"Well! what is it?"
"I would like to talk with you in the house; not here."
"My wife, I'm sorry to say, is sick. It's nothing serious, but she
might wake up."
"Then take me to the upper room."
"If you wish, why not? But are you not afraid to be alone with a
murderer?"
"You must not say that word again; and no one else must. I hope to root
out even the thought of it from every mind."
"You'll have to use witchcraft," thought Landolin; but nevertheless he
wondered what the lady had to say.
When the two rose, Peter came from behind the nut-tree. It was strange,
one met Peter everywhere. It seemed as though he had come out of the
wall, or through the steps. Without paying any attention to the fact
that his sudden appearance must be surprising, Peter said, very
submissively:
"Madam does us great honor in coming to see us. Great folks know what
is the proper thing to do. They are the best, after all."
Landolin opened his eyes wide at hearing Peter talk thus. "Where has
the boy learned it all?" The lady, too, looked at him in astonishment;
but Peter went on composedly:
"Madam, my father keeps no secrets from me. May I not know what news
you bring us?"
With these words Peter fixed his eyes sternly upon his father, that he
might not be able to give the lady the slightest sign, even with his
eye. But the judge's wife helped him out, for she replied:
"What I wish or bring is for your father alone; but I am heartily glad
that you and your father are in such unison. A child that is not good
to his parents never prospers in this world."
Peter chuckled. It is delicious how every one dissembles. Of course the
lady knows how he and his father stand toward one another, and yet she
plays the hypocrite. He laughed again and again until his father said
to him:
"Send something for the lady to eat and drink to the upper room; but
don't wake your mother."
As Landolin and Madam Pfann went up the stairs, Landolin stepped as
lightly as the lady.
In the upper room, where Thoma's outfit was stored, the air was close.
The judge's wife quickly opened the window, and then turned to
Landolin, and looked at him with the clear, friendly glance before
which harshness and obduracy seemed always to disappear. Wherever she
came, she diffused peace and calmness and noble graciousness.
A maid-servant brought food and drink.
Landolin went to the doors to see that no one was listening, and then
said, with a modest politeness that was quite new for him:
"Pray be seated on the sofa; and permit me now to ask what you have to
tell me?"