CHAPTER L
Landolin was suddenly in the midst of the crowded meadow, and the first person that he hit against was the one-handed man who had been his substitute in the army.
"Come here, I'll give you something," said Landolin, putting his hand into his pocket. The one-handed man hesitated to reach out his left hand, but at length he did it; for he couldn't bear to refuse a gift, although he was earning good wages, especially just now; for Anton had bought him some pictures of the heroes of our day, which he was hawking about, and he well understood the art of praising his wares. Titus watched Landolin as he gave the man something, and their eyes met, but neither greeted the other. Titus was of the opinion that Landolin should speak to him first in a very humble manner; and Landolin expected the man of unsullied honor to make the first advances.
Landolin saw Fidelis. The servant who had formerly been in his employ, passed by as though he didn't know him; perhaps he was annoyed that his master had been acquitted notwithstanding his damaging testimony. Landolin was inclined to speak to him and be friendly, but he heard Titus call him (for Fidelis was now in his service) and say: "Enjoy yourself as much as you can-your honor is without a stain-and I will pay for what you eat."
The maids of honor with wreaths on their heads went past, walking arm in arm. Their number had evidently been increased. They were the daughters of the district forester, of Titus, and of another farmer; but what would they all have been beside Thoma, had she been there?
The men shook hands and congratulated one another upon the pleasant day and the fine celebration. Landolin rubbed his cold hands-no one had touched his hand-was there blood sticking on it? Had he not been acquitted?
"What can be the matter with Anton Armbruster? What has kept him from coming?.. The best part is wanting when he is away… Thoma wouldn't let him come to the celebration… No, their engagement is broken off… I'll tell you; Anton is ashamed of Landolin, whose acquittal was such an atrocity. Look! There he goes now."
Such, and still more biting words Landolin heard from every group, as he went around like one risen from the dead, with whom no one would have anything to do. "I have not deserved this, not this-" said Landolin, angry and at the same time sad. His eyes burned as they sought a friendly glance. He not only felt that all the people at the celebration disliked him because of what he had done, and delighted to wound him by ignoring his presence, but he also saw plainly that they were particularly angry at him, because on his account Anton was absent. Here, at the very place where, on the day of the fair, he had vaingloriously boasted that he considered Anton of lower station than himself-here he was made to hear how universally the man whom he might have called son was beloved and honored.
Landolin turned to go. Why should he stay? But "Hush! Stand still!" was heard from all sides; for a trumpet sounded, and the district forester mounted the platform. He said that Anton Armbruster had been selected to welcome their friends and comrades.
Cries of "Hurrah for Anton!" arose here and there; but silence was commanded, and the forester, in simple words, welcomed the guests, and explained the significance of the celebration. He said he intended to be brief, for hungry stomachs do not like to be fed with words; and he concluded with a cheer for the Fatherland.
"To dinner! To dinner!" was now the cry. The tables were soon crowded, while the band played lively airs. Titus sat at a table with the other rich farmers. Landolin took a chair, and saying, "With your leave," sat down with them.
"So, Mr. Ex-bailiff, you here too?" Landolin heard himself addressed, and turning around, saw Engelbert, the shepherd of Gerlachseck, who had wanted to hire out to him. He now wore a large white apron, for the hostess of the Sword had engaged him as an assistant for the day. Landolin did not answer.
His companions at table ate and drank heartily, and talked loudly, but no one spoke a word to Landolin, until at length Titus said: "Well, how is it, Landolin? I hear you're going to sell your farm. If that's so, I'm a purchaser. I'll pay a good price. You can have a valuation put on it."
"Who said that I was going to sell?"
"Oh, it's generally reported that you're going to leave the neighborhood."
"If I knew who started that story, I'd pull his tongue out of his throat."
"I wouldn't do that," laughed Titus; "you certainly ought to know that that isn't a good plan."
"'Twas you," cried Landolin, "that started it-you!"
Titus gave no answer, but got up and walked away; the others soon followed him, and Landolin was left alone at the table.
Music filled the air. There was dancing; and during the intervals people laughed and sang, and made merry, while Landolin struggled with rage and sorrow. Are these people here all snow-white innocents? Are there not dozens of them who have much worse things on their conscience?
He wished that he had power to rush in and crush everything under foot.
At other times a sadness came over him, and he thought: "Were I only in prison, or, better still, not in the world at all."
But lest he should show his emotion, he leaned back, lighted his pipe, and smoked with a defiant look on his face. "They shall not succeed in making me eat humble pie."
At that moment merry laughter arose from the table where the people of rank were sitting. "What does that mean? Are the great folks rejoicing over my misfortune? No, that cannot be, for there sits the judge's wife, with her son, the lieutenant."
CHAPTER LI
At this table, which was spread with a white linen cloth, and decorated with vases of flowers, the school-teacher was just saying:
"Yes, Madam Pfann, that is the hardest riddle hidden in the whole history of man. Why can nothing but a myth or a people's war move the souls of the masses? In a war the souls of nations see one another, if one may say so, face to face."
He paused in the midst of his dissertation; for the lieutenant said in a clear voice:
"The Frenchmen literally took us for cannibals. In a village near Orleans, I went to a house and called; there was no answer. Presently I saw a woman, sitting on top of the brick oven; I spoke to her pleasantly, but she remained dumb, until, at last, I asked where the children were. She looked at me in terror; and I said, laughing: 'Bring me one, and roast it well. I want to eat it.' Then the woman laughed too, and let the children out of the oven, where she had really hidden them."
It was at this they had laughed so loud, at the great folk's table. They were all pleased with the lieutenant, whose former wild boyishness had changed to dignified composure. The eyes of the judge's wife danced with a mother's pride; and if she was always thoughtful of comforting and helping others, to-day she would have been glad to have poured joy upon every one. But to-day no one needed her, for there was joy and happiness everywhere. Just then she saw Landolin, and said:
"There sits the farmer of Reutershöfen all alone."
"It is well," said the district forester, "that the people are still strong-hearted and straight-forward enough to cast out a man who was unjustly acquitted."
"Wolfgang, come with me," said the judge's wife, rising; and taking her son's arm, she went to Landolin's table. She said to her son that she would remain there, and that he might join his comrades; and giving her hand to Landolin, she sat down beside him, asked after his wife and daughter-people never asked after Peter-and promised to visit them soon. She also intimated that she hoped to be able to straighten out the difficulty with Anton. Landolin told her, composedly, that Anton had visited them the evening before, but that Thoma had refused him, and that was probably the cause of his staying away from the celebration.
"Had I known that, I should not have come either," he concluded; and the lady discovered what suffering he must that day have undergone; and with the most sympathetic expression of voice and countenance, she said:
"Ex-bailiff, I have some good advice for you."
"Good advice? that is always useful."
"I think you ought to go away with Thoma for a few weeks. Go to a bathing place. It will do you good."
"I'm not sick. There is nothing the matter with me. I didn't know that our judge's wife was a doctor, too."
"You understand what I mean."
"I'm sorry I'm so stupid, but I don't understand you."
"Then I must speak plainly. Do you think that I desire your welfare?"
"Yes, certainly; why not?"
"You ought to go away a few weeks, and when you come back matters will be in a better condition. Other things will have happened in the meantime, and-You may believe me it would be well."
Landolin shook his head, and said after a long silence: "I know you mean thoroughly well; of course you do; but I shall not stir from this spot. I'll stay, if only to fool the rest of them. Already the honorable Titus-the hypocrite! – has been trying to spread the rumor that I am going to sell my farm. I'll stay here and cry fie upon the whole country. We have owned our farm for hundreds and hundreds of years. You can ask Walderjörgli; he will testify."
"I believe your word alone," said the judge's wife; Landolin nodded well pleased, for it did him good to be so readily believed, and he continued, in a clear voice:
"Yes, madame, we farmers are not so easily displaced as the-people of rank. We at Reutershöfen are a strong stock; people may dig as much as they choose at the roots; they will not bring it down."
All his pride arose; his sunken face became full; his form seemed to grow larger. The judge's wife did not know what more to say; and she would have been heard no longer, for a thousand voices cried:
"Walderjörgli! The Master of Justice! Walderjörgli!"
The cry spread, the girls and children on the further meadow took it up; crying, "Walderjörgli!"
A man appeared, who stood head and shoulders above all who surrounded him. His head was covered with soft, snow-white hair; his snow-white beard fell far down to his breast, and his face, with its heavy contracted brows and its large nose, looked as if chiseled with an axe.
"Hutadi! Hutadi!" screamed Landolin, springing up as if in a frenzy, and dashing into the crowd. "Hutadi!" he screamed, stretching out his arms, and clenching his fist in Titus' face.
CHAPTER LII
"Be quiet, Landolin! The time for that has gone by," said Walderjörgli in a commanding tone; and laid his broad hand between the combatants. They stood still; but their chests heaved, and they looked down at the ground like chidden boys.
The ancient cry of defiance, "Hutadi!" – no one knows exactly what it means; probably 'Beware' or 'Take care of yourself'-was formerly regarded as a challenge which no one could refuse. When it rang out, whether from forest or from meadow, whoever heard it must give battle to him who called.
In his youth, Walderjörgli had been considered the readiest and most powerful of combatants; but in his riper years he had become one of the most even-tempered and circumspect of men, so that he was elected Master of Justice for the forest republic in the mountain; which, as an independent peasant state, acknowledged no lord but the emperor.
Jörgli settled lawsuits, decreed punishments, and in conjunction with the council, apportioned the taxes; and all without appeal.
Jörgli was the only survivor of that last embassy which the forest peasants sent to the emperor at Vienna, to protest against being made subject to any prince. They desired to remain a free peasantry of the empire. Jörgli insisted that he was ninety-three years of age, but it was universally believed that he was already over a hundred; for the church registers had been burned with the church and parsonage in Napoleon's time.
The thought flashed through Landolin's mind that Walderjörgli could, with one stroke, reinstate him in all his old honor; so he said:
"From you, Master of Justice, I am glad to receive commands. All reverence is due you; and besides, you were my grandfather's dearest friend."
He laid his hand on his heart, and hoped that Walderjörgli would grasp it; but the old man looked sternly at him from under his bushy, snow-white brows, and said:
"How is your wife?"
Landolin could scarcely answer. What did this mean? His health was not asked after! Had his wife then suddenly acquired any peculiar distinction? Did the old man ask after her only to avoid asking after Landolin's own health?
He stammered out an answer; and the old man sent a greeting by him to his wife, who was "a good, honest housewife." Landolin smiled. If nothing is given him, still it's well that one of his family gets something, for then he too has a share in it.
Landolin informed the bystanders that Walderjörgli's family and his own were the oldest in the country, for theirs had been the only two farmer families that had survived the war with Sweden. While he was talking, he noticed that nobody listened to him; but he went on, and finished what he was saying with his eyes fixed on the ground.
The judge's wife had approached, and Titus gained an advantage by introducing her, and saying:
"This is the benefactress of the whole neighborhood."
Jörgli took the lady's delicate hand in his large one, and said:
"I've heard of you before. You are a noble woman; it is well. In old times women were not of so much account as they are now. But it is quite right now. And is that your son? Did you not once come to see me when you were a student? You have behaved yourself nobly."
He clapped the lieutenant on the shoulder, and every one was astonished that Walderjörgli still talked so well, and knew everything that was going on. It was considered a great honor to be spoken to by him.
Titus said very cleverly what an honor it was that Walderjörgli had come to the celebration, and begged that he would ascend the platform and speak a few pithy words to the assembly. The judge's wife added that it would be a precious memory to old and young, to children and children's children, if they could say that they had heard the last Master of Justice speak.
Walderjörgli looked at Titus and the judge's wife with a penetrating, almost contemptuous glance; for he was not vain, nor did he wish to be considered wise, and play the part of a prophet; so he shook his great head, and stuck his thumbs into the arm-holes of his long red vest, but straightened himself to his full height, and his eyes sparkled, when the district forester, who knew exactly how to deal with Jörgli, added that it would be well if the clergy were not allowed to entirely monopolize everything, even the soldier's associations, and to dedicate the flag; it would be particularly appropriate that a man like Jörgli should drive the nail that fastened the flag to the staff: the Emperor Joseph would certainly have approved of that.
When the Emperor Joseph was mentioned it seemed as if a new life were awakened in Jörgli. Around Emperor Joseph, who was venerated like a holy martyr, were gathered recollections of Jörgli's father, which he almost considered events in his own life.
He clenched his hands, and raising his arms, said, "Very well; so let it be."
He was led to the platform, and boundless were the acclamations of joy when he appeared, supported on the right hand by Titus, and on the left by the lieutenant.
There fell such a silence that the people noticed the whirring of the wings of a pair of doves which flew over the speaker's stand. Pointing to them, Jörgli cried:
"There they fly! One says not to the other, 'We will turn this way or that.' Their flight agrees by nature. So it is. Agreeing by nature-"
He paused, and seemed unable to proceed. The figure had evidently led him off from what he meant to say. He looked around perplexed, and seemed not to be able to speak another word-yes, even to have forgotten that he stood upon the platform.
His two companions above, and the audience below, stood in painful embarrassment. It was wrong to have brought an old man of a hundred on the stand.
Just then the district forester, who stood near, said audibly, "Emperor Joseph."
Jörgli opened his mouth wide and nodded. Yes, now he had his guiding-star again. Almost inaudibly, and in a very confused manner, he spoke of the Emperor Joseph and of the new emperor. Only this much was plain-that he considered the present emperor as the direct successor and continuer of the Emperor Joseph's struggles against the Pope.
Titus handed Jörgli a nail, and the lieutenant gave him a hammer. He nailed the flag to the flag-staff, and this widely visible act was more than the best speech; and he left the stand amid cheers and the sounds of trumpets.
He immediately called for his wagon. He wished to go home, and no one dared urge him to remain.
The four-horse wagon drove up the meadow. Landolin pushed his way up to it, and said, "Jörgli, I will go home with you. Take me along."
"Give my greetings to your wife," said Jörgli, turning away from him. He let himself be helped into the wagon, and then drove away. The wheels were hardly heard on the meadow, and the people on both sides saluted reverently, as they made way for him.
"How glad I should have been, if I could have sat in the wagon beside him!" thought Landolin.
No one ever prayed-no one ever offered to an angel, – to a saint, – more childlike petitions than these-"Take me with you; deliver me from this misery," – which had just passed Landolin's lips. But in these days the best are no longer good, and have no pity.
When Jörgli had gone the merriment began anew. They invited one another to drink, and new groups were soon formed. Only Landolin was not invited. He stood alone. Stop! Landolin struck his hand on his pocket, and the money jingled. With that a man can call a comrade who will talk with him better than any one else, and make him forget his cares.
He turned away from the meadow, and went to the city side of the Sword Inn. There were no guests there to-day. An old servant brought him wine. He drank alone, and had his glass refilled again and again.
As he still wanted every one to consider him of great importance, he explained to the old waitress that he was going to a bathing place for his health pretty soon. There they wouldn't let a man drink anything but mineral water, and so he was going to take plenty of wine before he went.
The old waitress said that was wise, and then returned to the illustrated paper which she had brought down from the Casino.
It was quiet in the cool room. Only a canary bird in his cage twittered awhile, and then began whistling half of the song "Who never on a spree did go."
Landolin frequently looked up at the bird and smiled; until, remembering Walderjörgli, he murmured, "Give my greeting to your wife."
CHAPTER LIII
The mother slept in her chamber. Thoma sat at the table in the living-room before a large, handsomely-bound book, filled with beautiful pictures. It was an illustrated history of the last war, which Anton had given her. Many book-marks lay between the leaves, at the places where the battles in which Anton had taken part were described. There were many soldiers in the pictures, but Anton's face was not distinguishable. She had heard that he was not at the celebration to-day. It was on her account. What could she do for him? There seemed to be nothing that she could do. Thoma had intended to read, but she could not bring herself to it; and to-day it horrified her to see in the pictures the men murdering each other, and shell tearing them to pieces.
For a long time she stared before her into the empty air. She was weary after the harvest work. Her head sank forward on the open book, and she fell asleep.
A cry awoke her; for her mother was calling,
"Landolin! For God's sake! don't do it! Stop!"
Thoma hastened to her mother, who looked at her wildly, as though she scarcely knew who and where she was.
"Is it you?" she asked at length. "Where is your father?"
"At the celebration."
"He must come home. Has not Peter found him yet? Where is he staying so long? Oh, Thoma! The eye-glass on the little black ribbon! He kneeled down on Titus, and tried to choke him! The farmer must come home, home!" she cried, weeping. She was in a fever. Thoma succeeded in quieting and undressing her. With chattering teeth she begged that a messenger should be sent for her husband, and Thoma obeyed her request.
Boys and girls rode past the house in the decorated wagons, singing, – the people on foot talked and laughed, – while in the house the farmer's wife lay in a fever. But at last, with burning cheeks, she fell asleep.
Thoma had ordered the messenger she sent for her father to go for the physician at the same time. The messenger found the doctor, but not the farmer.
It was late at night when Landolin crossed the bridge on his way home. He hit against the railing, and cried, "Oho!" as though it were some one blocking his way.
"Are you drunk?" he said, laying his finger on his nose; then laughed and went on.
The meadow was empty; not a soul was there. Landolin crossed it with a steady step, and ascending the speaker's stand-
"All you people there together, may the devil catch you all! Hutadi! Hutadi!" he cried, in a terribly strong voice. He seemed to expect that some one would come and fight with him; but no one came; so he descended from the stand, and went up the mountain road.
A sober Landolin struggled with a tipsy one.
"Fie! shame on you, Landolin!" he said to himself, "what a fellow you are-Fie upon you! A man like you drunk on the open road, before everybody-Let me alone, Titus! I don't want anything to do with you-I'm not drunk. And if I am-no-. The cursed wine at the Sword-at that time-Go away-away! – If you don't go, Vetturi, you shall-There, there you lie-"
He bent over to pick up a stone, and fell down.
Getting up again, he said to himself, as he would to an unruly horse: "Keep quiet, quiet! So, so!" And then he cried angrily: "If I only had a horse! At home there are twelve, fourteen horses and one colt-Who's coming behind me? Who is it? If you have any courage, come on! 'Tisn't fair to hit from behind. Come in front of me! Come, and I'll fight with you!"
From the steep hillside a stone rolled into the road, loosened by who knows what animal's flying foot? Landolin clenched both hands in his hair, that rose on end with fright, and cried:
"Are you throwing stones? That's it, self-defense! self-defense! Just wait!"
He stopped and said, "Don't drive yourself crazy, or they'll put you in an asylum."
A railroad train rushed through the valley. The locomotive's red lights appeared like the flaming eyes of a snorting monster. Landolin stared at it, and in doing so he became calmer, for ghosts cannot haunt a locomotive's track. The sweat of fear ran down his face, and with loudly beating heart he hastened up the road. At length he breathed more freely; he took off his hat; a refreshing breeze blew over the plateau: he saw his house, and said:
"The light is still burning; they are waiting for me; supper is on the table. Control yourself; you are Landolin of Reutershöfen. You have a wife called Johanna, a daughter called Thoma, and a son called Peter. I care nothing for the hammering in my temples. I am not drunk-tipsy: three times three are nine-and one more is ten. You lie when you say I am drunk. I can walk straight. So, there is the well. Oh well, you are happy; you can stay at home, and yet be full all the time. Ha! ha! Hush! don't try to make jokes. Hush!"
Again he stood at the well, and cooled his hands and face, then went into the yard, and without stopping to speak to the dog, passed up the steps and into the living-room, where he found the doctor sitting at the table, writing.
"What is it? There's nothing the matter?"
"Your wife is sick."
"It is not serious?"
"I don't know yet. At any rate you must keep quiet. You may go in; but don't talk much, and come right away again."
The walls, the tables, the chairs, seemed to reel; but his step was firm as he went to his wife's side and said:
"Walderjörgli sent his greeting to you; he charged me with it twice."
He had sufficient self-control to say all this with a steady voice, and his wife replied:
"I know it already; the doctor told me that Walderjörgli was there. Where he is, everything goes right. Thank him. Good-night."
Landolin threw himself into the great chair out in the living-room, and cried:
"Oh, what misery it is to come home and find your wife sick, and no joy, no welcome, nothing!"
He looked at Thoma, who, without moving or making a sound, stood leaning against the bedroom door.
To what a pass has it come when, in the midst of such misery, the father thinks of himself alone!
Landolin arose wearily and whispered to Thoma:
"You've noticed that I'm tipsy? Yes, I am; and if you do not treat me affectionately, as you used to, I will be so every day, – then you'll see what will come of it!"
"I cannot keep you from doing what you choose, either to yourself or to us."
"Bring me something to drink. I'm very thirsty," ordered Landolin. Thoma went, and returned with a bottle.
"That is nothing but water! But never mind; you're right. You're sharp."
For the first time in many days, father and daughter laughed together, but their laughter soon died away.