“You shall keep your promise, as I will keep mine,” said Paul. “I wish
you could find courage to defend yourselves, so that at last there might
be a clear account between us.... But perhaps it is best as it is....
And now repeat after me what I say: ‘We swear before God and by the
memory of our mother that we will redeem within three days our promise
given to your sisters.’” Trembling and faltering, they repeated the
words after him.
“And I swear to you before God and the remembrance of my mother,” he
answered, “that I will shoot you down whenever I find you if you do not
keep your oath. There! now you may drive on--I will harness the horse
to the sledge myself. Stay where you are!” he repeated when, in spite of
that, they wanted to lend him a helping hand.
They did not stir again, so obedient had they become. And when he had
finished, they said, with great politeness,
“Good-evening,” and drove away.
“So that is how to do it,” he murmured, throwing the pistol down in the
snow and looking after the sledge with folded hands. “If you rely upon
what is right and honorable, and wish, in the goodness of your heart, to
turn everything to good, you are called a coward and treated like a dog.
But if you treat others like dogs from the first, without considering
whether you are in the right or wrong, you are called brave, everything
succeeds with you, and you are a hero. So that is how it is done.”
He shuddered. He was seized with such disgust towards himself and the
whole world. In his own eyes he appeared so polluted that nothing on
earth could ever cleanse him again.
* * * * *
The next forenoon he stood in the snow behind the shed and gazed towards
Helenenthal, where a dark funeral procession was preparing for its sad
journey. Twice he had gone to the stables to tell the servants to get
the sledge ready, and each time the word had stuck in his throat.
Now he stood there with his hands folded, watching how the long, black,
undulating line crept on over the dazzling-white snowy heath; it grew
smaller and smaller, and disappeared at last behind the wood, for the
cemetery of Helenenthal lay far off on the way to the town.
“How nice it would be,” he thought, “if they would bury her, too,
beneath the three fir-trees; then mother would have a good neighbor
and--”
He started! As quick as lightning his brain had pictured how, on a
beautiful spring evening, he might meet Elsbeth there, who would come
and sit near the grave that belonged to her, as he would come to his.
“But it is better as it is,” he said to himself; “how could I ever find
courage to look into her eyes again?--I, who lurk about the road at
night to get husbands for my wretched sisters!”
Then suddenly the twins came running up breathless; they trembled all
over and struggled for words.
“What is the matter, children?”
Greta hid her head on his shoulder, and Kate sniffled like a child
trying to keep back its tears.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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