"My child, I am a poor man; as poor as a beggar. Do you understand me?" Thoma shook her head, and her father continued: "I have sinned against you all, especially against you; but now I beg you to forgive me. Don't let me perish." His heart beat so fast that he could not speak another word. As Thoma still remained silent, he turned quickly away, and went with tottering steps to the living-room. He listened to hear if Thoma would not follow him; but he heard nothing. He looked at the table in the living-room, and asked: "Is that a new table?" "No, but Thoma had it planed because the holes were there." Landolin remembered having stuck the fork in the table. Steps were now heard. It was not Thoma, but the pastor, who came. His words were kind and comforting, but Landolin stared at him blankly. True, he saw him, but he heard him not; his thoughts were with his daughter, who was so terribly changed. It was not until the pastor mentioned Cushion-Kate, and said that she had grown wild and uncontrollable, and talked most blasphemously, that Landolin paid any attention to what he said. And when the pastor added that it seemed as if Cushion-Kate had gone crazy, he cried: "There are insane asylums for such people. She should be put into one. The town can pay for it." "That's not so easily done; the district physician will have to order it." Thoma had unexpectedly appeared, and brought in the supper, which she had had prepared. The pastor started to leave, but upon Thoma's and her mother's entreaties he remained. They needed a man of peace to bring quiet and concord. The meal-time passed cheerfully, and Landolin ate ravenously. During a pause, he asked: "Herr Pastor, is neither the young bailiff nor any of the councilmen at home? It would be no more than proper for them to call. They must have known that I was coming." The pastor seemed to find no answer, and Landolin's wife spared him embarrassment by reminding her husband that he had said that he would no longer concern himself about other people. When the pastor took his leave, Landolin accompanied him respectfully. Pausing before the house, the pastor said in a low tone: "Give me half." "Half of what?" "When you were in prison, did you not vow a hundred times that when you were released you would give liberally to the poor and the church? Give me half, or a third, or a fourth." "Herr Pastor, you're joking. It is too soon for me to joke with you." "If you change your mind, you know where to find me," said the pastor. As he turned away, Landolin looked after him scornfully. He went to the well and drank of the water that poured swiftly from it. As he wiped his mouth, he said to his wife who was looking out of the window: "Nothing in the world quenches my thirst so, and makes me feel so well and fresh as water from our own well." "Come in, it is bed-time." CHAPTER XLI.