And what could Ernst's notion of emigrating have meant? "Who knows," thought I to myself, "what I may yet have to witness on the part of this son who is always flying the track?" The night was bitter cold; the snow which had melted during the day had frozen hard, and our sleigh creaked and rattled as we hurried along the road. CHAPTER XVIII. I have always discouraged a belief in omens, and yet when I saw the strange cloud-forms that floated before the face of the moon that night, shadowy forebodings filled my soul. The ringing of the sleigh-bells was full of a strange melody, and, down in the valley, I could hear the raging of the torrent which seemed as if angered at the thought that the frost king would soon again bind it with his fetters. The sleigh halted at the saw-mill. When I looked up towards the house I saw that there was a light in the room. "What are you doing?" I asked Rothfuss. "I am taking the bells off, so that the mistress may not hear us." Although we had supposed that no one had noticed our coining, we heard soft steps advancing to meet us when we reached the house. Martella opened the door for us. I entered the room. It was nicely warmed and lighted. The meal which had been prepared for me was still on the table. Rothfuss drew off his boots and went off to his room on tiptoe. "Do you not want to go to bed, Martella? Have you been sitting up all this time?" "Indeed I have; and oh, do take it from me!" "What ails you?" "Oh, what a night I have passed! I do not know how it all came about; but mother had gone to bed, and I sat here quite alone in this great, big house. I looked at the meal that was waiting for our master; at the bread that had once been grain, the meat that had once been alive, and the wine that had once been grapes in the vineyard. "It seemed to me as if the fields and the beasts all came up to me and asked, 'Where are you? What has become of you?' And then I could not help thinking to myself, 'You have so many people here--a father, a mother, one brother who is so learned, and another who is in another world, a sister who is a major's wife, and one who is a pastor's, and besides this, my own Ernst; and all these say: "We are yours and you are ours."' When I thought of that, I felt so happy and yet so sad. And then the two clocks kept up their incessant ticking. It seemed as if they were talking to me all the time. The fast one said to me, 'How did you get here, you simple, forlorn child, whom they found behind the hedge? Run away as fast as you can! Run away! you cannot stay here; you must go off. All these people about you have made a prisoner of you; they feel kindly towards you, but you cannot stay. Run, run away! Run, child, run!' "But the other clock, with its quiet and steady tick, would always say, 'Be thankful, be thankful, be thankful! You are snugly housed with kindly hearts; do what you can to earn their kindness by your goodness.'