He grasped the matches. There is a soft hissing, the storm howls through the opening, and the flame shoots up high into the air, a whistling, hissing roaring is heard. The fire has already reached the roof.

He rushes back into the yard, which still lies silent before him.

"Fire! fire! fire!" he cries, to wake the sleepers.

In the stables, where the farm servants sleep, there is a great stir, shrieks come from the servants' rooms.

The roof is already wrapped in a fiery mantle. The tiles begin to crack, and fall rattling to the ground. Wherever there is an outlet a fountain of flame immediately spirts up towards the sky.

Hitherto he had been standing in the yard all alone, watching his terrible work with folded hands, but now the doors were torn open, and the farm servants and maids rushed screaming into the yard.

Then he sighed, relieved, as at a duty accomplished, and walked slowly into the garden to avoid meeting anybody. "I have worked long enough,"

he murmured, slamming the gate behind him. "To-day I will rest!"

With lagging steps he went along the gravel path like one tired out, murmuring incessantly "Rest! rest!"

His glance wandered wearily around, the garden lay before him, bathed in a sea of light caused by the moonbeams and the flames, and the shadows of the storm driven leaves danced before his eyes like something supernatural. Here and there a spark fell upon the path before him, looking like a glowworm. He searched for the darkest arbor, and hid in its farthest corner. There he sat down on the turfy seat and buried his face in his hands.

He wanted neither to hear nor to see anything more.

But a dull feeling of curiosity made him look up after a while, and as he raised his eyes he saw the flames arch over the house like a crimson, white-edged canopy, for the storm was blowing that way.

Then he knew all was lost.

He folded his hands. He felt as if he ought to pray.

"Mother! mother!" he cried, his eyes full of tears, stretching out his arms to the sky.

Then, suddenly, a strange change came over him. He felt quite happy and free, the heavy load which had weighed on his mind all these years had vanished, and, with a deep breath, he drew his hands along his shoulders and arms, as though he longed to rid himself of the sinking fetters.

"There," he cried, like one from whose heart a burden is taken, "now I have nothing more, now I need care no longer. I am free, free as the birds in the air."

He hit his forehead with his fists, he cried, he laughed. He felt as if an undeserved, unheard of happiness had descended upon him from heaven.

"Mother! mother!" he shouted, wild with joy. "Now I know how your fairy tale ends. I am released! I am released!"

At this moment the frightened lowing of the cattle fell upon his ear, and brought him back to his senses. "No, you poor animals shall not perish on my account," he cried, springing up, "I would rather die myself."

He hurried to the back door of the house, where the servants were eagerly carrying out the furniture.

"Look at master!" they exclaimed, weeping, and drew each other's attention to his bare feet.

"Leave that alone!" he cried. "Save the animals!"

An axe lay on the path. With it he broke open the back door of the stables, which led into the fields, for the yard was already a sea of flames.

As in a dream he sees how the garden and field are filling with people.

The village fire engine comes rattling along, the road to Helenenthal, too, becomes alive.

Three, four times he rushes into the flames, the servants behind him, then he sinks down, fainting with pain, in the middle of the burning stables.

A shriek, a piercing shriek from a woman, causes him to open his eyes once more.

Then it seemed to him as if he saw Elsbeth's face vanishing in mist over his head, then it was night again round him....

CHAPTER XXI

At the first streak of dawn a sad procession went across the autumnal heath, on the way to Helenenthal. Two miserable wagons crept slowly, one behind the other. In them was found room for all that remained of the Haidehof.

In the first wagon, wrapped in blankets among the straw, lay the master, terribly burned, unconscious ... The pale, trembling woman who anxiously bent over him was the playfellow of his youth.

In this state she fetched him home at last. "We will take him to one of his sisters," Mr. Douglas had said but she had laid her hands on Paul's breast, from which the singed rags hung down, as if she wanted to take possession of him for evermore, and had answered:

"No, father, he is coming with us."

"But your wedding, child--the guests?"

"What is the wedding to me?" she replied, and the gay bridegroom stood by stupefied.

In the second cart lay the few pieces of furniture which had been saved: an old chest of drawers, a few drawers with linen and books and ribbons, earthen ware dishes, a milk pail, and his father's long pipe.

But where was the latter?

The only one who might have given an explanation lay there unconscious, perhaps already struggling with death.

Had he taken to flight? Had he perished in the flames? The maids had found his bedroom empty, and no trace of himself.

"I suspect no good of him," said old Douglas, "he was always inclined to madness, and if we find his bones to morrow beneath the ruins I shall be quite convinced that he set fire to the barn himself, and then threw himself into the flames."

However, just as they were coming through the gates of Helenenthal they heard a dog howling piteously near the barn, and saw a strange cur with his fore paws on a dark ma.s.s lying there, and from time to time pulling at something that looked like the end of a garment.

Douglas, surprised, ordered the cart to stop, and walked up to it.

There he found the person they were seeking--a corpse. His features were horribly distorted, and his arms still half uplifted, as if he had been suddenly turned to stone. Near him lay a broken pot, and a matchbox was shimming in a pool of petroleum, which as flowing down the wheel ruts as in a gutter.

Then the gray giant folded his hands and murmured a prayer When he came back to the cart he trembled all over, and his eyes were full of tears.

"Elsbeth, look here," he said, "there lies the body of old Meyerhofer.

He wanted to set fire to our property, and G.o.d has struck him dead."

"G.o.d does not set barns on fire," said Elsbeth, and looked back at the burning farm, from which a dark-blue smoke was rising in the chilly morning air.

"But is it not through G.o.d's providence that we were saved?"

"If any one saved us, this one did," said Elsbeth.