There was no time to say anything more, for the two servants were called into the house. Before Tobias left the yard he threw a stone down near the gate.

Tobias was first reprimanded for having swept away the marks of blood.

He took it all quietly, and said, in a firm voice, that he had plainly seen that Vetturi, who was always shaky, had not been hit by the stone, but had fallen down himself on the paving-stones. When the head-servant began speaking, Landolin had closed his eyes, but he now looked up triumphantly. His elbow rested on the chair; he held his hand over his mouth, and pressed his lips tightly together when Tobias concluded with:

"The stone that Vetturi threw, lies down there yet, scarcely a step from where the master stood."

Landolin raised himself to his full height. "That's the thing!

Self-defense! I must justify myself on that ground." Landolin grasped the arm of the chair, as a drowning man, battling with the waves, grasps the rope thrown out to save him; and, just so, his soul clung to the thought of self-defense.

Fidelis said quite as positively that he had seen his master pick up a paving-stone with both hands, lean back, draw a long breath, and throw it. It had struck Vetturi on the head, and he had not seen Vetturi throw anything.

Landolin started up with an angry exclamation. He was told to be silent. The judge arose and said, evidently with forced calmness, that he was sorry, but, in order to prevent any tampering with the witnesses, he was compelled to place Landolin in confinement for the present.

The chair moved violently, and Landolin cried:

"Your honor, I am Landolin of Reutershofen; this is my house; out there are my fields, my meadows, my forests. I am no adventurer, and I sha'n't run away for a beggar who is nothing to me."

The judge shrugged his shoulders, and said that they would probably be able to release him in a few days.

As the clerk folded his papers together, he cast a longing look at the poured-out wine; but he had to content himself with licking the ink-spots from his fingers.

"May I not send my husband a bed?" asked the farmer's wife. This was the first word she had spoken. The judge replied with a compa.s.sionate smile that it was not necessary.

Landolin took her hand, and, for the first time in many years, said in an affectionate tone:

"Dear Johanna." Her face was illuminated as though a miracle had been worked; and Landolin continued: "Don't worry. Nothing will happen to me."

"Can't he take me with him?" asked his wife of the judge.

"I am sorry that it is impossible."

She was about to send a maid-servant for Thoma, but Landolin prevented it, and said to the judge:

"I am ready to go now."

When Landolin had taken his seat in the carriage, a guard, who had been standing before the house, sprang upon the box with the coachman. The farmer's wife brought her husband's cloak, and he wrapped himself in it, for he was shivering, although the air was mild. He pulled his hat down to hide his face, and besides, it was night.

The carriage rolled away. The barking of the dog, and the rumbling of the wheels over the plateau could long be heard. At last it died away, and all was still.

CHAPTER XIX.

All was still in the yard. The moonbeams shone upon the house and barns, and glistened on the spring, the splashing of which could still be heard.

Under the broad eaves sat the head-servant and Peter. Tobias, in delight, clapped his hands together, and rubbed his knees. He had not only testified so as to help his master, but what, if possible, pleased him more, he had succeeded in cheating the judge, and making a laughing-stock of him. It was rare fun for him. He whispered to Peter:

"Only be sharp! You're smarter, slyer, than anybody guesses. You mustn't go after Fidelis hammer and tongs; that will only make the matter worse. He's a stiff-backed soldier of the new Prussian pattern.

Just keep your head on your shoulders. By degrees, we'll teach him what he saw. If you turn him off now, then----Hold on! I've got it! Now listen to me."

He stopped a moment; put his hands together, as though he had a bird caged in them; chuckled to himself; and not until Peter questioned him did he say:

"Listen! Before taking the oath, they ask, 'Are you in the employ of the accused?' And if one answers 'Yes,' his testimony doesn't amount to much, good or bad. So we must keep Fidelis, do you understand! Hush!

Who's knocking?"

Tobias opened the gate and greeted the pastor, whom he told that Landolin had already been taken away, and that his wife was in the house. The pastor went to the living-room, where he found the farmer's wife with an open prayer-book in her hand. He commended her for this, and said that he would have been there earlier, but had returned from the fair only an hour before, and had gone to "Cushion Kate's" first.

He strove to comfort her, reminding her that man must bow to the will of Heaven.

The clergyman, a tall, hard-featured man, was the youngest son of a rich farmer. He was brusque in his intercourse with his people, but mingled little with them--election-time excepted--for he knew this conduct pleased the farmers best. In summertime the pastor was all day long by the brook in the valley, fishing. In the winter-time he stayed at home, and no one knew what he did.

"Oh, sir!" said the farmer's wife, mournfully, "people don't know how much they love each other until something like this happens." She blushed like a young girl, and continued: "Children live for themselves; but married people----it seems to me that I have done wrong in not letting my husband see how much----"

Her emotion would not allow her to continue. The pastor consoled her by saying that she had always been an honest woman, and a good wife; that G.o.d would ward off this evil from her; and that this misfortune would redound to her lasting welfare. He was astonished that this woman, whom people generally considered shallow, could show such deep affection.

"How does Thoma bear it?" he asked.

"I will call her," she answered.

She went out and soon returned with Thoma, who looked so careworn, that for a moment the pastor could say nothing. He soon, however, endeavored to comfort her.

"Herr Pastor," began Thoma, "what do you think about it? I don't know.

I think I must go to Cushion-Kate's."

"Wait till to-morrow morning," interrupted her mother.

"No, I think I must go to-day."

"Yes! do so," said the pastor approvingly, "I have just come from her house. She did not show by word or sign that she heard what I said. She sits motionless on the floor beside her dead boy. Come, you can go a part of the way with me."

Thoma and the pastor walked side by side. The pastor could not speak of Anton, for this was no time for congratulations.

The moon had disappeared, and dark clouds covered the sky.

"It will rain to-morrow, thank G.o.d. It is much needed," was all that the pastor said during the walk. At the meadow-path which leads to Cushion-Kate's house, he asked if he should go there with her, but she declined and went alone. She had to pa.s.s the house of the "Galloping Cooper," and there, in the shadow of a pile of barrel staves, she heard old Jochen say to the people who sat with him on the bench before the house,

"Oh yes! It's Landolin! They've got him now, and he won't get away.

He'll have to pay for it, but not as his father used to pay for his tricks. Here, on my right thumb is still the scar where Landolin bit me in a fight we had. His father paid smart money for it. Yes; in old times the common people only had bones that the farmers' sons might break them. When Landolin stepped into the dancing-room, the floor trembled, and so did the heart of everybody there. Now, he's getting paid back."

"Will his head be cut off?" asked a child's voice.

"He deserves it; but they don't behead people any more."

All this fell on Thoma like a thunderbolt. She stood as though on fire.

Her fresh life seemed all burned away and turned to ashes. She pressed her cold hands to her burning face, and fled homeward, unseen.

When she had almost reached the house, she started back in terror, as though a ghost had waylaid her; but it was only the dog who rubbed himself affectionately against her. Thoma was angry with herself for being so easily frightened. "That must not be, and certainly not now."

The dog leaped before her, barking. He had evidently been driven home.