Landolin Part 22

When the pastor took his leave, Landolin accompanied him respectfully.

Pausing before the house, the pastor said in a low tone:

"Give me half."

"Half of what?"

"When you were in prison, did you not vow a hundred times that when you were released you would give liberally to the poor and the church? Give me half, or a third, or a fourth."

"Herr Pastor, you're joking. It is too soon for me to joke with you."

"If you change your mind, you know where to find me," said the pastor.

As he turned away, Landolin looked after him scornfully.

He went to the well and drank of the water that poured swiftly from it.

As he wiped his mouth, he said to his wife who was looking out of the window:

"Nothing in the world quenches my thirst so, and makes me feel so well and fresh as water from our own well."

"Come in, it is bed-time."

CHAPTER XLI.

Landolin strove to think of something else than that which, against his will, forced itself upon him; and asked his wife after they had got to their room:

"Is there nothing new? Hasn't anything happened all this long time?"

"No; at least not much. The old Dobel-Farmer was so badly hurt, unloading a wagon-load of wood, that he died. Perhaps you heard of it.

The government has bought the Dieslinger farm for a forest. The owner of the Syringa farm is married again. In Heidlingen they have a new minister. The former one tried to make his church Old-Catholic, as they call it; and the Improvement Society, as they call it, has laid out a new road near our forest. The superintendent, the good old General, has often been here, and asked after you."

Thus his wife went on.

"Who came to see you oftenest while I was away?"

"My brother. But there were a good many other people who came to condole with me. I wouldn't listen to their pity, so after awhile they stopped coming."

"Didn't the miller ever come to see you?"

"No; not once."

"That's just like a Dutchman. He won't go unless he's pushed. To-morrow I'll straighten matters between Anton and Thoma. I'll go and see the miller."

"Don't do that. Don't try to hitch up so fast. You understand what I mean. You know when a man wants to turn a wagon round, or back his horses, he can't do it on a gallop."

"Aha!" thought Landolin, "she's trying to be smart. Everybody thinks they're smarter than I am."

As Landolin was silent, his wife continued: "Now, you go to sleep. I'm sleepy."

The quiet did not last long, for Landolin tossed back and forth on his bed, and sighed and groaned.

"What is the matter? Aren't you tired?"

"Oh, wife, I can't make it real that I am not alone; and that the sword no longer hangs over my head. I see the counselor's glittering eye-gla.s.s on its black ribbon all the time. Indeed, you haven't your old husband any more. You have another--and I can't abide the fellow, he's so soft-hearted. I wish you would often remind me not to care for what other people think. They have forgotten me, and I'll do what I can to forget them. Only you must be very patient with me; but don't give up to me, and don't let me be so soft-hearted."

The strong man wept bitter tears in the depth of the night, and called out, almost with a curse:

"May my eyes run out if I ever weep again, as long as we two live together! I make this promise to you, and to myself. Others cannot embitter my life, if I do not embitter it myself. Yes, yes!

Self-defense! Self-defense!"

His wife lighted a candle, and tried to comfort the self-tormented man.

He said, at length:

"One thing more. Cushion-Kate called after me, that I must make away with myself--I won't do that, for your sake."

His wife stroked his hand, wet with freshly-fallen tears.

"I won't give people the satisfaction of thinking we need sympathy.

Leave the candle burning; and then, if I wake up again, I shall know I am no longer in prison. Good-night, we'll go to sleep now."

He slept until late in the day. His wife rose gently and went about her work, carefully avoiding the least noise that might wake her husband.

She blessed every moment that brought him sleep and exhilarating strength and health.

CHAPTER XLII.

Thoma was still in the harvest field when Landolin came into the living-room. His wife sat down beside him, and he said:

"You can't think how different food tastes when one has to eat it alone, in prison."

"Don't let your thoughts run back to that all the time."

"Has any one been here to see me?"

"No. But remember what you said last night."

Yes, that was easily said; but Landolin could not help thinking of the people outside, and how it could be possible that they were not at least curious to look at him again.

He looked out of the window. Heavily laden grain-wagons pa.s.sed by, but no farmer, no servant, so much as gave a glance toward his house. The new bailiff came up the road, steadying the wagon with his pitchfork.

He had evidently seen Landolin from a distance; for, not far from the house, he walked to the other side of the wagon, where he could not be seen.

Landolin drew back into the room, and seating himself in the great arm-chair he drummed awhile on its arms, then went into the bedroom and pulled on his high boots.