Regina, or the Sins of the FathersSudermann, Hermann
General
Regina, or the Sins of the Fathers
Sudermann, Hermann
Fiction
"Then put it on at once."
She disappeared silently through the door before which they had been
standing, and after a few moments returned in a brilliant red tippet
which she had crossed over her breast and tied in a knot behind. Now
that she had awakened to the fact that her half-clothed condition
shocked him, she began to be ashamed of even her naked arms, which she
had no means of concealing. She kept them folded behind her back, and
crept into the darkest corner of the passage.
"Did they refuse to bury the _gnädiger Herr_?" he demanded.
"No-no-one said anything," she answered, "because I never asked."
"Why not?"
"Because I couldn't for the stones that were hurled at me. And then I
thought it was no good. Nobody would ever come and fetch him. I might
as well shovel him in myself, as best I could."
"_You_ proposed to do it! Without help?"
"If I could carry him from the Cats' Bridge into the house without
help, I ought to be able to bury him too."
"Where--in the churchyard?"
"The churchyard? Ha! ha! That would have been a pretty piece of
business. I should never have got him through the village and been
alive afterwards to tell the tale. It was in the garden, over by the
Castle. I was in the middle of digging the grave when the _Herr_
arrived."
Now he felt strongly inclined to praise her. Such canine fidelity,
unquestioning, unhesitating, touched him deeply. Did not the girl who
had faced death readily a thousand times for her master's sake, deserve
some sort of reward? Yes. He would repay her in coin; good hard cash
would doubtless be more acceptable than anything else, poor thing! And,
directly he had laid his father in his last resting-place, he would
dismiss her from his service. Till then she might stay where she was.
But, at all costs, his father's bones must lie with those of his
ancestors. His first duty, his bounden duty as a son, was to procure
for him a decent burial, such as was granted to every Christian human
being. No matter what difficulties might stand in the way, he
determined to accomplish the sacred task, even if he were driven to
resort to extreme measures, and call in the aid of the law. He knew at
least one magistrate in Prussia, a relative of his mother's, who would
take his side, and enforce justice with an armed contingent if the
worst came to the worst.
He was just in the act of walking off in the direction of the village,
when it occurred to him that it was impossible to take a hundred steps
on his own property without being snared into a hundred death-traps.
Without the woman he detested to guide him, he was as helpless as a
child.
"Lead me to the drawbridge," he said; "and while I am gone clear away
all the traps."
"Yes, _Herr_."
But she remained motionless, as if rooted to the spot.
"What are you waiting for?"
"I beg the _Herr's_ pardon, but he has been travelling all night, and I
thought----"
"What did you think?"
"That the _Herr_ must be very tired, and hungry perhaps; and----"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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