In the little house past which led the meadow path, Cushion-Kate sat at
the table this Sunday afternoon. Before her lay the hymn-book, but it
was not open. The old woman had rested her elbow on the table, and her
left cheek lay on her bony hand; she was gazing out of the window
before which the black elderberries glistened, and a young starling
sang.
For a long time she looked before her without moving, and a bitter
smile passed over her hard features as she muttered:
"He dares to go to the Lord's Table before the whole congregation. O
Thou above! forgive me that I quarrel with Thee so. But even Thou art
not as Thou wast in old times. Landolin should have stood before the
church door in a penitent's dress. Yes, mother; you had to stand there
with a straw wreath on your head, and thought that you must sink into
the ground in shame; and you cursed the whole world; and I beneath your
heart learned it then--there is nothing but sorrow and distress in my
blood. O God, I pray for only one thing; let me not die before I have
seen how this ends with Landolin. I cannot wait till the next world; I
will not----"
She took her hand from her cheek and listened; voices, steps, drew
nearer; the wooden bolt of the house door was pushed back, and the room
door opened.
"Sit still, Kate," said the judge's wife; and behind her stood
Landolin. The old woman opened her mouth, but she could not bring out a
word. The judge's wife laid her hand on her shoulder, and said, "Kate!
Here is the ex-bailiff; he wants to bring you rest and kindness, and
everything that is beautiful and right. Now I beg you, take heart, and
lighten your soul and his; he wants to take care of you as though you
were his own mother."
"His mother! I was a mother; I am called so no longer. Had there been,
not twelve men, but twelve mothers, in court, they would have hanged
him, and the ravens would have eaten his eyes and his fat cheeks."
The judge's wife was struck dumb by this raving; but Cushion-Kate now
turned to Landolin:
"They say that you spoke for yourself in court; do you now need some
one else to speak for you?"
Controlling himself with a violent effort, Landolin said that he was
heartily sorry that so great a sorrow had come upon Cushion-Kate; that
he could not bring the dead to life, but he promised her that she
should live as though she were a rich farmer's wife. With a shrill cry
Cushion-Kate screamed:
"And I say to you, fie upon all your gold and goods! Only because the
good lady is there do I not spit in your face. I have found out in
weary nights that every sinner can be forgiven except one--except the
liar, and that is what you are. You must go to ruin, you must have no
rest by day or night, and all that is yours must go to ruin too. Come
with me! Come to my Vetturi's grave; kneel down there; call the
congregation together and confess--But true, you never go through the
churchyard. But take heed! You must soon go, when one of your family
dies----"
"That is enough," cried Landolin. "Come with me, Madam Pfann, or I
shall go alone; I cannot stand this any longer."
He turned away; Madam Pfann cast one more beseeching glance at
Cushion-Kate, but she laughed scornfully.
Landolin and the judge's wife walked silently together to where the
footpath joins the road; there they stood still, and taking his hand,
she said:
"Farewell! I thank you for having been so good to me; and you may be
sure it will do you good too. You have done all a man could, and may
now rest easy. We have not gained what I hoped, but your soul must feel
easier and freer."
"Yes; but I should like to ask a favor----"
"Only tell it," said the judge's wife, encouragingly, as Landolin
paused hesitatingly.
"Well, Madam, when I think of it fairly, I cannot blame Cushion-Kate so
much, that she is so frantic and raves against me; I am innocent, but
still it happened. I don't believe in witchcraft and prophecy; but the
way she spoke of death in my family frightened me. Now what was I going
to say? I forget. Oh! this. Cushion-Kate may cherish a hate toward me;
but my daughter--yes, I will tell you how deaf and dumb she is toward
me. It is hard that a stranger should come between father and child;
but I think----"
"So do I. You may depend on it I will speak to Thoma, and I shall
succeed better than we did over there. I will ask her to come and see
me."
With hearty thanks, Landolin and the lady parted. She walked on a while
as if lost in thought, and forgetful of the way; but she soon began, as
usual, to pick flowers and grasses and pretty sprigs, and arrange them
in a beautiful bouquet.
In the garden of the Sword Inn her husband met her, and she soon sat
pleasantly conversing with the people of rank in their separate arbor.