Forgiveness -- Fiction; Guilt -- Fiction; Love -- Fiction
"There needn't be anything more. All I ask for is that we may keep what
we have."
They sat there for a long while, and at last Walpurga said:
"Oh! how beautiful the world is. If we could only always remain
together thus. There's nothing more beautiful than to sit here and look
at the lake, through the green leaves and the gray boughs. There are
two skies, one above and one below. Hansei, we have two heavens, too,
and I almost think that the one on earth is the lovelier of the two."
"Yes, but joy has made me hungry and thirsty; I must have something to
eat."
They descended to a quiet, desolate-looking village that lay near by.
Here and there people were seated before their doors, chatting and
yawning, to while away the sultry hour of noon. But Walpurga said:
"Oh, Hansei, how beautiful everything is! Just look at that
wheelbarrow, and that pile of wood, and that house--I don't know what's
the matter with me, but I feel quite dizzy, and as if everything were
smiling at me."
"You must have something to eat and drink; you're quite beside
yourself."
They found the inn-parlor untenanted except by myriads of flies.
"They've got lots of guests here, but they don't pay anything," said
Hansei, and they both laughed with all their might. They were so happy
that the merest trifle provoked them to laughter.
After repeated calls the landlady appeared, bringing some sour wine and
stale bread; but it was quite palatable, nevertheless.
They left and, when evening came on, rowed about the lake for a long
while. The evening dews were already falling, when Hansei, pointing
toward a distant bare spot in the forest, said: "That's our meadow."
Walpurga seemed busied with other thoughts. She rested her oars and
exclaimed:
"The little house over there is our home, and there's our child. I
don't know how it is--" She could not express her feelings, but it
seemed as if she must fly away and hover over the sea and the
mountains, with all that belonged to her. She gazed earnestly at
Hansei, until he at last said:
"Of course it's our little house; and our cows, and our tables, and our
chairs, and our beds, are all there. Walpurga, you've become a foolish
thing; everything seems strange to you."
"You're right, Hansei. Only have patience with me. I'm just coming home
to it all again."
She had, at first, almost felt mortified at Hansei's words. He had
taken her expressions so literally, and had not appreciated her
high-strung feelings. But she quickly regained her self-control, and
realized how changed she had become, and that all this was out of place
here.
They returned home, and slipped into the house through the back door.
They found everything quiet and in good order. They did not care for
the people outside, or for their merry-making. They were enough to each
other.
CHAPTER VI.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account