Landolin

CHAPTER VIII

On one side of the river was the noise and bustle of the crowded fair; on the other, in the shade of the elms and willows, hidden from all the world, sat Anton and Thoma, caressing each other.

"Now be sensible, and say something," said Thoma at length.

"No, no, I cannot talk, and I don't need to, for everything I would say you know already," replied Anton. He told, however, of his awakening before day, of his morning walk, and how he had greeted Thoma from the far distance.

She laughed gladly, and tears came to her eyes. She was certainly sincerely fond of Anton, but the deep, gushing love which now burst from him she had scarcely dreamed of.

"Yonder is the fair," said he, "anything can be got there. I should like to buy something for you, but it would be useless; the world, the whole world, is yours."

"Not quite the whole," she laughed, "but you are right, don't buy anything for me. All I want is your good heart; that I have, and such a one all the gold in the world couldn't buy. Do you know what pleases me best in all you say?"

"Tell me what it is."

"I believe every word you speak. I don't believe you could possibly tell an untruth."

Again they were silent until, as a happy smile broke over Anton's face, Thoma said:

"Why do you smile? Your soul laughs out. Tell me why!"

"Yes, yes, love; doesn't it seem as if our river were more joyous than usual to-day? I've grown up on its banks, you know. When I was in the war, I often fancied at night I heard it rushing. It made me homesick. I was thinking just now, darling, that the little fishes must be happy down there in the water."

"It will be hard, Anton, for me to grow accustomed to it. I have a real horror of water. When I was a very little child, one of our servants was drowned, and they told me that the river must have its sacrifice every year, and after three days it would give up the dead; so I hated it. But nonsense, what foolish talk! See, there comes Titus's wagon, with his son and daughter. The son wanted me and the daughter wanted you."

She arose and waved her hand to them, and then called out, taking care they should not hear her:

"Buy yourselves dolls at the fair."

Anton remained seated, and a cloud passed over his face, for it pained him that Thoma should greet them so scornfully.

A messenger came from the inn to say that Landolin had arrived. The hostess met them at the door, and said:

"Your friends are all up stairs in the corner room. Good luck to you!"

CHAPTER IX

The hostess of the "Sword" – it so happens that every one speaks of the hostess and not of the host, and her husband seems to be quite satisfied with it-this wise woman, according to a plan of her own, had changed and enlarged the old inn until it was twice as large as before. For, as soon as a spot had been fixed upon for a railway station, she had a new building added on the side toward the river, with a large summer hall and verandas, where the people of rank in the village could hold their summer gatherings in the open air. The corner room of the house, on the town side, she arranged especially for betrothal festivities. There was a great mirror, in which people could survey themselves at full length-to be sure not always an advantage. There were colored prints of young lovers, of marriages, of christenings, and of golden weddings.

At the table sat the miller and Landolin's wife, and waited long for the farmer. The miller was annoyed, and Landolin's wife did not know what to say, for she could not deny that her husband probably kept the miller waiting intentionally, in order to show him who was the more important.

The miller had an earnest, good-natured face, and a thoughtfulness in every word and gesture. He had a high regard for the farmer's wife, and expressed it to her. She looked down, abashed, for she was not used to being praised, and became silent. The miller, too, ceased talking, and whistled gently to himself.

At length Landolin's step was heard, and following him came Thoma and Anton. Landolin shook hands with the miller.

"I have been waiting a long time," the miller said.

Landolin did not consider it necessary to excuse himself; he thought people must be satisfied with all he did, and the way in which he did it.

The miller poured out some of the wine which stood on the table, and, after touching glasses, Landolin said:

"We have really nothing more to arrange. You know what division Peter must make when he takes the estate. The money I have promised I will pay down the day before the wedding. The five acres of forest which I have bought, which border on your land, and are properly no part of my farm, I now give to Thoma to be hers in her own right. You have no one but your son, so there is nothing more to be said. Of course, you will not marry again?"

The miller smiled sadly, and said at length:

"Then give your hands to one another in God's name, and may happiness and blessing be yours for all time."

The lovers clasped each other's hands firmly, and so did the fathers and mother.

The betrothed drank from the same glass; and it was a good omen that Thoma did not take from his hand the glass, which Anton held out to her, but drank whilst he held it.

Landolin might have spoken, but he remained silent. It is not necessary for him to speak. Is he not Landolin? He even looked suspiciously at the miller. He did not esteem him highly, for every one praised his good nature, and Landolin was inclined to consider good nature as one kind of rascality.

"Father-in-law," said Anton, "whenever you come to our house you will find joy there, for as surely as our brook will never flow up the mountain side, so surely will Thoma's thoughts never turn toward her old home in discontent."

Landolin opened his eyes at this speech; but his only answer was a tap on the shoulder. The miller said, with a trembling voice:

"Yes, yes; 'twill be beautiful to have a young woman in our house once more."

"Thoma will hold you in all honor," said the farmer's wife. "She honors her parents, and that makes sound housewives."

Landolin shrugged his shoulders slightly, when the miller continued:

"I'm very sure, Landolin, that your daughter is not so hot-tempered as you and your side of the house have always been."

Landolin smiled, well pleased that people should think him hot-tempered, for this made them fear and respect him.

CHAPTER X

As Landolin still remained silent, the miller felt called upon to speak.

"I can well understand that it must be hard for you to let your daughter leave your house; we found it so when our only daughter was married. My wife-it is from her that Anton gets his ready speech-said that when the daughter who sang as she went up and down the stairs is gone, then it seems that all the cheerfulness of the house has flown away like a bird."

At these stupid, soft-hearted words, Landolin gave the miller a disdainful look. But he did not notice this, and went on in a voice too low for the lovers to hear:

"I needn't praise Anton to you any more. He belongs to you as well as to me. He is well educated; the military authorities wished to keep him in the army. They said he would be made an officer, but that is not for one of us. It will not be long before your daughter is the wife of the bailiff. My wife, thank God, lived to see him come home from the war with the great medal of honor. I'm sure you are glad of it too. A man with that medal is worth much, I do not mean in money, but wherever he goes he is esteemed and respected, and needn't stand back for anybody, no matter who he is."

"We needn't do that, either," said Landolin, looking at the miller arrogantly. He laughed aloud when the miller added:

"The judge's wife put it well when she said, 'Wherever he goes he has the honorable recognition of the highest rank in the whole kingdom.'"

"Hoho!" cried Landolin, so loudly that even the lovers started. There was nothing more said; for, as the fair was over, the miller's relatives and the brother of Landolin's wife came in. The farmer's wife greeted her brother affectionately; and Landolin shook hands with him, and bade him welcome. He and his brother-in-law were enemies, as the brother-in-law sided with Titus; but to-day it was only proper that he should be invited to the family festival.

They sat down together to the feast, when the miller remarked that next Sunday he would go with the lovers to visit the patriarch Walderjörgli, in the forest, and announce to him their betrothal. Landolin's face reddened to the roots of his hair, and he exclaimed:

"I don't care anything for the patriarch. I don't care anything for old customs; and, as for me, Walderjörgli, with his long beard, is no saint; he's not down in my calendar."

"He is a relative of my wife," replied the miller, "and you know very well of how much importance he is."