The mother slept in her chamber. Thoma sat at the table in the living-room before a large, handsomely-bound book, filled with beautiful pictures. It was an illustrated history of the last war, which Anton had given her. Many book-marks lay between the leaves, at the places where the battles in which Anton had taken part were described. There were many soldiers in the pictures, but Anton's face was not distinguishable. She had heard that he was not at the celebration to-day. It was on her account. What could she do for him? There seemed to be nothing that she could do. Thoma had intended to read, but she could not bring herself to it; and to-day it horrified her to see in the pictures the men murdering each other, and shell tearing them to pieces. For a long time she stared before her into the empty air. She was weary after the harvest work. Her head sank forward on the open book, and she fell asleep. A cry awoke her; for her mother was calling, "Landolin! For God's sake! don't do it! Stop!" Thoma hastened to her mother, who looked at her wildly, as though she scarcely knew who and where she was. "Is it you?" she asked at length. "Where is your father?" "At the celebration." "He must come home. Has not Peter found him yet? Where is he staying so long? Oh, Thoma! The eye-glass on the little black ribbon! He kneeled down on Titus, and tried to choke him! The farmer must come home, home!" she cried, weeping. She was in a fever. Thoma succeeded in quieting and undressing her. With chattering teeth she begged that a messenger should be sent for her husband, and Thoma obeyed her request. Boys and girls rode past the house in the decorated wagons, singing,--the people on foot talked and laughed,--while in the house the farmer's wife lay in a fever. But at last, with burning cheeks, she fell asleep. Thoma had ordered the messenger she sent for her father to go for the physician at the same time. The messenger found the doctor, but not the farmer. It was late at night when Landolin crossed the bridge on his way home. He hit against the railing, and cried, "Oho!" as though it were some one blocking his way. "Are you drunk?" he said, laying his finger on his nose; then laughed and went on. The meadow was empty; not a soul was there. Landolin crossed it with a steady step, and ascending the speaker's stand-- "All you people there together, may the devil catch you all! Hutadi! Hutadi!" he cried, in a terribly strong voice. He seemed to expect that some one would come and fight with him; but no one came; so he descended from the stand, and went up the mountain road. A sober Landolin struggled with a tipsy one.