The judge's wife was struck dumb by this raving; but Cushion-Kate now turned to Landolin: "They say that you spoke for yourself in court; do you now need some one else to speak for you?" Controlling himself with a violent effort, Landolin said that he was heartily sorry that so great a sorrow had come upon Cushion-Kate; that he could not bring the dead to life, but he promised her that she should live as though she were a rich farmer's wife. With a shrill cry Cushion-Kate screamed: "And I say to you, fie upon all your gold and goods! Only because the good lady is there do I not spit in your face. I have found out in weary nights that every sinner can be forgiven except one--except the liar, and that is what you are. You must go to ruin, you must have no rest by day or night, and all that is yours must go to ruin too. Come with me! Come to my Vetturi's grave; kneel down there; call the congregation together and confess--But true, you never go through the churchyard. But take heed! You must soon go, when one of your family dies----" "That is enough," cried Landolin. "Come with me, Madam Pfann, or I shall go alone; I cannot stand this any longer." He turned away; Madam Pfann cast one more beseeching glance at Cushion-Kate, but she laughed scornfully. Landolin and the judge's wife walked silently together to where the footpath joins the road; there they stood still, and taking his hand, she said: "Farewell! I thank you for having been so good to me; and you may be sure it will do you good too. You have done all a man could, and may now rest easy. We have not gained what I hoped, but your soul must feel easier and freer." "Yes; but I should like to ask a favor----" "Only tell it," said the judge's wife, encouragingly, as Landolin paused hesitatingly. "Well, Madam, when I think of it fairly, I cannot blame Cushion-Kate so much, that she is so frantic and raves against me; I am innocent, but still it happened. I don't believe in witchcraft and prophecy; but the way she spoke of death in my family frightened me. Now what was I going to say? I forget. Oh! this. Cushion-Kate may cherish a hate toward me; but my daughter--yes, I will tell you how deaf and dumb she is toward me. It is hard that a stranger should come between father and child; but I think----" "So do I. You may depend on it I will speak to Thoma, and I shall succeed better than we did over there. I will ask her to come and see me." With hearty thanks, Landolin and the lady parted. She walked on a while as if lost in thought, and forgetful of the way; but she soon began, as usual, to pick flowers and grasses and pretty sprigs, and arrange them in a beautiful bouquet. In the garden of the Sword Inn her husband met her, and she soon sat pleasantly conversing with the people of rank in their separate arbor. CHAPTER LXI.