To-day I was in the Hinter Winkel again, in Mathes's house. The woman
is inconsolable. Two days ago the boy Lazarus disappeared.
Something horrible has happened. In his rage he hurled a stone at his
mother. Then, with a wild cry, he ran away. Upon Mathes's grave the
fresh imprints of two knees were discovered yesterday.
We have summoned people to hunt for the boy. He is not in any of the
huts. They will also search along the ravines and streams.
"He did n't mean to hit me!" sobs the mother; "and it was only a
_little_ stone, but a large one lies upon my heart. He could never have
thrown a greater one at me than by running away."