The vigil was prolonged, however, and Moser did not return. The children had fallen asleep one after another, and even Jean, who had held out the longest, had to seek his bed at last. Dorothee, uneasy, went incessantly from the fireside to the door and from the door to the fireside. Arnold strove to reassure her, but her mind was excited by suspense. She accused Moser of never thinking of his health or of his safety; of always being ready to sacrifice himself for others; of being unable to see a human being or an animal suffer without risking all to relieve it. As she went on with her complaint, which sounded strangely like a glorification, her fears grew more vivid; she had a thousand gloomy forebodings. The dog had howled all through the previous night; an owl had perched upon the roof of the house; it was a Wednesday, always an unfortunate day in the family. Her fears reached such a pitch at last that the young man volunteered to go in search of her husband, and she was about to awaken Fritz to accompany him, when the sound of footsteps was heard outside. "It is Moser!" said the woman, stopping short. "Oho, there, open quickly, wife," cried the farmer from without. She ran to draw the bolt, and Moser appeared, carrying in his arms the old blind dog. "Here he is," he said gayly. "God help me! I thought I should never find him: the poor brute had rolled to the bottom of the big stone quarry." "And you went there to get him?" asked Dorothee, horror-stricken. "Should I have left him at the bottom to find him drowned to-morrow?" asked the old soldier. "I slid down the length of the big mountain and I carried him up in my arms like a child: the lantern was left behind, though." "But you risked your life, you foolhardy man!" cried Dorothee, who was shuddering at her husband's explanation. The latter shrugged his shoulders. "Ah, bah!" he said with careless gayety; "who risks nothing has nothing; I have found Farraut--that's the principal thing. If the grandfather sees us from up there, he ought to be satisfied." This reflection, made in an almost indifferent tone, touched Arnold, who held out his hand impetuously to the peasant. "What you have done was prompted by a good heart," he said with feeling. "What? Because I have kept a dog from drowning?" answered Moser. "Dogs and men--thank God I have helped more than one out of a hole since I was born; but I have sometimes had better weather than to-night to do it in. Say, wife, there must be a glass of cognac left; bring the bottle here; there is nothing that dries you better when you're wet." Dorothee brought the bottle to the farmer, who drank to his guest's health, and then each sought his bed. The next morning the weather was fine again; the sky was clear, and the birds, shaking their feathers, sang on the still dripping trees.