Anton returned home troubled. He said to himself: "Have I let Landolin tell me what I saw? Shall I lose my heart to the daughter, and my conscience to the father? It would be better if the marriage had not been broken off, for then I could refuse to testify." CHAPTER XXII. The farmer's wife had often visited her husband in the presence of the examining magistrate. Peter had several times accompanied his mother, but Thoma did not come. Her father was too high-spirited to inquire for her, or ask why she staid away. Perhaps she disapproved of his obstinacy in staying in prison; perhaps she approved of his pride, for Landolin had told the judge, "I will not go out with a halter round my neck, for people to make sport of me; one to pull it tight, so as to choke me a little, and another to graciously loosen it. I will only go as a free man. And didn't you say that I am to appear in court next week?" So he staid in prison, and was not obliged to see any one but his wife, his son, the examining magistrate, and his attorney. But one pair of eyes he saw, that looked more friendly at him than the eyes of a child or a sister. The district judge's wife had obtained permission to visit the prisoners. And the hearts must indeed have been hard that were not gladdened when that lady entered the cell, while the guards waited at the open door. Madame Pfann--for by this simple title did the judge's wife allow herself to be called--Madame Pfann was exceedingly happy in her marriage. Although her husband could not forbear occasionally laughing at her missionary zeal, nevertheless he willingly allowed her her own way in everything. He delighted in the many successes she achieved, but above all other things, in the unwavering faithfulness with which she fulfilled the duty she had taken upon herself. They had an only son, who in July, 1870, entered the army as a volunteer, was promoted to a lieutenancy on the field of battle, and had remained in the service. Madame Pfann had not waited for some great event before she set herself to work. Years before she had commenced the work of philanthropy, and carried it out with a zeal that was universally acknowledged. She was the daughter of a plain professor in the gymnasium at the capital; and she took pleasure in saying that she owed her capacity for her work to her father's simple and noble character. She was aware that people called her conduct eccentric and sentimental; but she cared nothing for that. An old-time saying tells us that on the path of heroic deeds a man has to battle with giants and monsters. Madame Pfann had had to battle with a great and noble intellect. She remembered Goethe's cynical words, that finally the world would be bereft of all beauty, and each one would be only his neighbor's benevolent brother.