Part 6 (2/2)
Anton asked about their neighbor's daughter, Thoma's old playmate.
Sadly she told him how she had broken with her only friend. Anger and shame reddened her cheeks as she related to him how her old playmate had, on her wedding day, worn a wreath which she had no right to wear.
Thoma's lips quivered when she said:
”They say that Cus.h.i.+on Kate's mother was forced to stand at the church door with a straw wreath on her head, and a straw girdle round her waist. That was hard, but just. But for the girl to lie so, before G.o.d and man; to accept an honor to which she had no right. To know it herself and yet be so bold----. There, that is just like Vetturi. I have no patience nor friends.h.i.+p with a liar, whether rich or poor, man or woman. He who will not take the responsibility of his own acts may go to perdition. Indeed, it is not necessary to tell him so, for he has already gone there. You laugh? You are right! Such an honorable man as you are doesn't need to be lectured. Now I don't need my playmate nor anything else while I have you and father. No princess could be happier than I.”
They went on hand in hand. When they reached the farm-house, her mother, who had come straight home, called to them from the window to wait until everything should be ready for the visitors, who would soon be there with their congratulations.
So the two seated themselves in the garden back of the house, on the terrace beyond the cherry-tree, and the blossoms on the tree were not richer than the happy thoughts of the young couple.
While they were here under the cherry-tree, Cus.h.i.+on Kate was sitting by her son; he said:
”Mother, I must get away from here. I will go to Alsace, into a factory.”
”And you will leave me alone,” complained the mother for the hundredth time; and for the hundredth time related, as though it were a comfort, that Vetturi's grandfather had been one of the Reutershofen family; and though he received his portion as a younger son, neither he nor his descendants had ever been able to get along. Vetturi let his mother talk, but still insisted that he would go.
”Mother, I'm a burden to you. It makes me ashamed.”
”You're not a burden to me, and you shouldn't be ashamed to stay with your mother. What have I left in the world if you go away? I shall never want to get up again. I shall never want to make the fire. If you go away you must take me along.”
”We'll see, mother. But first, I will have my pay from Landolin; this very day I will have it.”
With these words he tore himself away, and hurried to the farm-house.
CHAPTER XV.
Just as the farmer's wife had expected, many people returning from the fair, and many too who had not been there, came to offer their good wishes upon Thoma's betrothal. She made them welcome, and invited them to eat and drink.
When Landolin reached home his greeting to the guests was cool and careless, and he did not look at all like the father of a girl who had just been happily betrothed to her lover.
People said afterward that they knew then from his manner what he was likely to do. But who knows whether they were really so wise?
Landolin said to his wife:
”Stop feeding these people. Start them off. Don't be so friendly and talkative with the herd. It's impudence for them to come to me with good wishes. I don't want their good wishes.”
He then went across the yard and stood awhile by the dog. Yes, he even spoke to him. ”You're right, you should have been with me. Such fellows don't deserve a word. They ought to have a dog set on them.”
Then Vetturi rushed into the yard, bareheaded, and called out: ”Farmer!
for the last time I say, I want my pay, my money.”
”What? You want anything from me! March out of this yard at once. Off with you! What? You're standing there yet? Once for all, go, or I'll make you!”
”I won't go.”
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