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, Cushion 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 Reutershoefen 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." "Shall I untie the dog and set him on you?" "You needn't untie the dog. You're a dog yourself." "I'm what?" "What I just said." "Vetturi, you know I have a hand like iron. Go! Go, or I'll knock you down so you'll never move again." "Do it! Kill me! You man-skinner, you----" A stone was thrown; there was a shriek; a moan was heard that even hushed the barking of the dog. Vetturi fell down, groaned once, and then lay motionless.