"I'm not so stupid; I know that it's night now, and the freeholder and
his wife are come. I'll give them lots of trouble. I'm Jochem. Jochem's
my name, and what the people don't like, I do for spite. Ha! ha! I don't
use any light, and they must make me an allowance for that. I'll insist
on it, if I have to go to the King himself about it."
Irma started when she heard the King mentioned.
"Yes, I'll go to the King, to the King! to the King!" cried the old man
overhead, as if he knew that the word tortured Irma.
She heard him close the window and move a chair. The old man went to
bed.
Irma looked out into the dark night. Not a star was to be seen. There
was no light anywhere; nothing was heard but the roaring of the mountain
stream and the rustling of the trees. The night seemed like a
dark abyss.
"Are you still awake?" asked a soft voice without. It was the
grandmother.
"I was once a servant at this farm," said she. "That was forty years
ago; and now I'm the mother of the freeholder's wife, and almost the
head one on the farm. But I keep thinking of you all the time. I keep
trying to think how it is in your heart. I've something to tell you.
Come out again. I'll take you where it'll do you good to be. Come!"
Irma went out into the dark night with the old woman. How different this
guide from the one she had had the day before!
The old woman led her to the fountain. She had brought a cup with her
and gave it to Irma. "Come, drink; good cold water's the best. Water
comforts the body; it cools and quiets us; it's like bathing one's soul.
I know what sorrow is too. One's insides burn as if they were afire."
Irma drank some of the water of the mountain spring. It seemed like a
healing dew, whose influence was diffused through her whole frame.
The grandmother led her back to her room and said, "You've still got
the shirt on that you wore at the palace. You'll never stop thinking of
that place till you've burned that shirt."
The old woman would listen to no denial, and Irma was as docile as a
little child. The grandmother hurried to get a coarse shirt for her, and
after Irma had put it on, brought wood and a light and burnt the other
at the open fire. Irma was also obliged to cut off her long nails and
throw them into the fire. Then Beate disappeared for a few moments, and
returned with Irma's riding-habit. "You must have been shot; for there
are balls in this," said she, spreading out the long blue habit.
A smile passed over Irma's face, as she felt the balls that had been
sewed into the lower part of the habit, so that it might hang more
gracefully. Beate had also brought something very useful,--a deerskin.
"Hansei sends you this," said she. "He thinks that maybe you're used to
having something soft for your feet to rest on. He shot the
deer himself."
Irma appreciated the kindness of the man who could show such affection
to one who was both a stranger and a mystery to him.
The grandmother remained at Irma's bedside until she fell asleep. Then
she breathed thrice on the sleeper and left the room.
It was late at night when Irma awoke.
"To the King! to the King! to the King!" The words had been uttered
thrice in a loud voice. Was it hers, or that of the man overhead? Irma
pressed her hand to her forehead and felt the bandage. Was it sea-grass
that had gathered there? Was she lying alive at the bottom of the lake?
Gradually all that had happened became clear to her.
Alone, in the dark and silent night, she wept. And these were the first
tears she had shed since the terrible events through which she
had passed.
It was evening when Irma awoke. She put her hand to her forehead. A wet
cloth had been bound round it. She had been sleeping nearly twenty-four
hours. The grandmother was sitting by her bed.
"You've a strong constitution," said the old woman, "and that helped
you. It's all right now."
Irma arose. She felt strong, and guided by the grandmother, walked over
to the dwelling-house.
"God be praised that you're well again," said Walpurga, who was
standing there with her husband; and Hansei added, "yes, that's right."
Irma thanked them, and looked up at the gable of the house. What words
there met her eye?
"Don't you think the house has a good motto written on its forehead?"
asked Hansei.
Irma started. On the gable of the house she read the following
inscription:--
EAT AND DRINK: FORGET NOT GOD: THINE HONOR GUARD:
OF ALL THY STORE,
THOU'LT CARRY HENCE
A WINDING-SHEET
AND NOTHING MORE.
Translation of S.A. Stern.