V.
The winter was at hand, and the inmates of the White House only numbered one more—the mistress of the house.
Most of the servants whom the master had engaged ran away at once as soon as they heard he had an evil eye, and those who stayed a while, having been taken ill, soon left the house also.
The young, beautiful wife lay ill upon her rich bed. Near her was her husband, who, with averted eyes, pressed her cold hand.
The poor wife knew well how terrible was her husband’s glance. She knew that through it her suffering and sorrow were increased; but still, in her love for the sorrowing man, she asked him to look upon her once more.
“My Mary,” said the wretched man, with a deep sigh. “I shall never be happy with you so long as I have my eyes. Cut them out, then. Here is a sharp knife, and at your hand it will cause me no pain.”
The poor wife shuddered at this terrible proposal, and the wretched man sank from his chair to the floor, and commenced to weep bitterly.
“Of what use is this gift of Heaven to me?” cried he. “Of what use is it to me to possess the pleasures men have in sight, when my eyes scatter destruction and ruin around? You are ill, my Mary. Why, a tree itself would wither when I cast my glance upon it in an evil hour. Take courage, though. Upon our child these eyes shall never look. Him they shall never harm, and he shall not have reason to curse his father.”
A groan was the only answer of the sick wife.
The master called in a servant and left the room. All at once two different cries were heard from the two opposite sides of the White House.
From one side came the cry of a new-born child, from the other side, in the hall where the fire burned, came the cry of a man in pain. The one was the cry of an infant as it looked upon the light for the first time, the other was the cry of a man who had bid farewell to sight for ever.