Brown bread, honey, goat's milk, and an omelette were on the table, and the stranger, who had been as a godsend to the poor family, enjoyed the homely fare. The peasant had already calculated that if his lodger lived a year in the hut, they could save five hundred francs--a fortune. Christian Almer had been generous to the children, in whose eyes he was something more than mortal. Money is a magic power.
"Will the day be fine?" asked Christian.
"Yes," said the peasant; "but there will be a change in the evening. The little ones will know--you can trust to them."
Young as they were, they could read the signs on Nature's face, and could teach their gentleman friend wise things, great and rich as he was.
The father accompanied them for a couple of miles; he was a goat-herd, and, unlike others of his class, was by no means a silent man.
"You live a happy life here," said Christian Almer.
"Why, yes," said the peasant; "it is happy enough. We have to eat, but not to spare; there is the trouble. Still, God be thanked. The children are strong and healthy; that is another reason for thankfulness."
"Is your wife, as you are, mountain born?"
"Yes; and could tell you stories. And there," said the peasant, pointing upwards afar off, "as though it knew my wife were being talked of, there is the lämmergeier."
An enormous vulture, which seemed to have suddenly grown out of the air, was suspended in the clouds. So motionless was it that it might have been likened to a sculptured work, wrought by an angel's hand, and fixed in heaven as a sign. It could not have measured less than ten feet from wing to wing. Its colour was brown, with bright edges and white quills, and its fiery eyes were encircled by broad orange-shaded rings.