Now, all at once, we have a priest, and such a strange one, one as
mysterious as our altar-piece the cross from the Felsenthal.
At noontide the last day of July, I entered the church to ring the
bells. There, on the upper step of the altar, stood the Einspanig,
reading mass.
I watched him for a while. Even the priest from Holdenschlag could have
done it no better. But when he finished, solemnly descended the steps,
and with downcast eyes walked towards the door, I then felt it my duty
to intercept him and call him to account. "Sir," I said, "you enter
this house of God, as anyone with an upright heart may do; but you
ascend to the holiest place and do those things which are not fitting
for everyone. I am the keeper of this church, and must ask you what
your action means."
He stood there looking at me with great calmness.
"Good friend," he then replied, with a voice which rattled and grated as
if rusty; "the question is short and easy, the answer long and
difficult. But since you have the right to demand it, it is my duty to
give it. Name the day when you will go up to the three pines in the
Wolfsgrube."
"For what purpose?" I asked.
"The answer is not to be found on the way. Under the pine-trees you may
learn it."
"Very well," I said; "then next Saturday at three o'clock I will appear
at the pines in the Wolfsgrube."
He bowed and walked away.
For the present I will not mention this incident to the people. He is a
madman! would be the universal cry.
That may be. I shall go to the pines and perhaps learn something more
definite about him. If I find in him a lunacy as singular and charming
as in old Ruepel, I shall be satisfied. Even though nothing should come
of the parsonage and schoolhouse in Winkelsteg, I shall be able at least
to found a lunatic asylum.
And that would also be a good deed.
*THE EINSPANIG'S ANSWER*