Such, and still more biting words Landolin heard from every group, as he went around like one risen from the dead, with whom no one would have anything to do. "I have not deserved this, not this----" said Landolin, angry and at the same time sad. His eyes burned as they sought a friendly glance. He not only felt that all the people at the celebration disliked him because of what he had done, and delighted to wound him by ignoring his presence, but he also saw plainly that they were particularly angry at him, because on his account Anton was absent. Here, at the very place where, on the day of the fair, he had vaingloriously boasted that he considered Anton of lower station than himself--here he was made to hear how universally the man whom he might have called son was beloved and honored. Landolin turned to go. Why should he stay? But "Hush! Stand still!" was heard from all sides; for a trumpet sounded, and the district forester mounted the platform. He said that Anton Armbruster had been selected to welcome their friends and comrades. Cries of "Hurrah for Anton!" arose here and there; but silence was commanded, and the forester, in simple words, welcomed the guests, and explained the significance of the celebration. He said he intended to be brief, for hungry stomachs do not like to be fed with words; and he concluded with a cheer for the Fatherland. "To dinner! To dinner!" was now the cry. The tables were soon crowded, while the band played lively airs. Titus sat at a table with the other rich farmers. Landolin took a chair, and saying, "With your leave," sat down with them. "So, Mr. Ex-bailiff, you here too?" Landolin heard himself addressed, and turning around, saw Engelbert, the shepherd of Gerlachseck, who had wanted to hire out to him. He now wore a large white apron, for the hostess of the Sword had engaged him as an assistant for the day. Landolin did not answer. His companions at table ate and drank heartily, and talked loudly, but no one spoke a word to Landolin, until at length Titus said: "Well, how is it, Landolin? I hear you're going to sell your farm. If that's so, I'm a purchaser. I'll pay a good price. You can have a valuation put on it." "Who said that I was going to sell?" "Oh, it's generally reported that you're going to leave the neighborhood." "If I knew who started that story, I'd pull his tongue out of his throat." "I wouldn't do that," laughed Titus; "you certainly ought to know that that isn't a good plan." "'Twas you," cried Landolin, "that started it--you!" Titus gave no answer, but got up and walked away; the others soon followed him, and Landolin was left alone at the table. Music filled the air. There was dancing; and during the intervals people laughed and sang, and made merry, while Landolin struggled with rage and sorrow. Are these people here all snow-white innocents? Are there not dozens of them who have much worse things on their conscience?