"When any one has been lost in a wood, it is scarcely possible to realise that they have a home of their own—a place where your bed stands, your looking-glass, your table, your chest of drawers, your Psalm Book. Oh! what good old friends these all seem, and how you love them all when you come home, and would gladly thank the tables and chairs for having stood steadily in the same place, and quietly waited for your return. And do you know the worst part of losing your way?—that you are so laughed at when you tell the story afterwards. But I wish no one—not even the Röttmännin herself—to have such a thing happen to them.
"It was a lovely summer's day, the Sunday after All Saints—no, not Sunday, the Monday of Peter and Paul. Oh! what must it be to wander about in the snow at night, and such a child, too! what could it do but lie down and die! Oh heavens! I see the child before me, fast in the snow, or in the cleft of a rock, its hands struggling, and its feet frozen, so that it cannot move; and crying out, 'Mother!' and listening, and hoping that some one will come, and no one answers but the raven on the tree. And a hare runs past him—whish!—over the snow. It is afraid of the child, and the child looks after the hare, and forgets his misery for the moment. 'Mother! mother!' he goes on calling, and it is a blessing that he falls asleep at last, never to wake again. Good heavens! what an unhappy creature I am to have such thoughts pass through my mind; and come they will, I can't help it; but it runs in our family, and my mother was right in saying, that she knew more than that two and two made four. And you know what happened to the poor child that lies buried up yonder in Wenger. He was found in the wood on the third day, quite covered with snow, and only close to his heart was the snow melted. All those who saw it could not help sobbing their very hearts out; and the mother became an idiot. The Herr Pastor wrote a beautiful epitaph on the tombstone: I knew it once by heart, but I could not repeat it now. And what happened to the hatter, who was carrying a bundle of newly dyed hats on New Year's Day to Knusling? He arrived at the Schröckenhalde, the very precipice where I was when I lost myself, and went on through the meadow; and there was such a fog that you could not see your hand before you. He went round and round the village at least seven times, and could never find his way in. The bells were ringing, but they always seemed to him to come from the other side, and so he never got there. At last he heard geese cackling, so he followed the cry, and soon got safe to the village. But if you could but have seen him! he looked just as if he had been buried, and dug up again. But one thing I forgot to tell you, which was that the Forest Miller"—
Here Leegart was interrupted by loud cries in front of the house.
CHAPTER XV.
A CHILD SEEKING HIS FATHER.
Leegart was absolute mistress of Schilder-David's house, on the days when she came in the morning to stay till night; and therefore it was but natural that she should dismiss little Joseph at noon; for in his presence, it was not possible to discuss the many points that were absolutely necessary to be discussed.
The news that the Pastor intended to leave the village came first to Leegart; and now she proved that she richly merited the name she had earned of The Privy Councillor. She sent instantly for two of the churchwardens, and dispatched them, along with Schilder-David, to the Pastor, in order to persuade him, by their united eloquence, to give up his intention.
A servant from the Forest Mill had gone to fetch wine from the Rössleswirth, and sugar and all sorts of spices from the grocer. This occurrence was, of course, very soon known in the village, and speedily found its way to the house of Schilder-David, whom it naturally concerned most, and to Leegart, who was there, and who always contrived to have the earliest intelligence about everything. Every one in the village took a pride in bringing her news, and they considered it only their simple duty to tell her all reports, being well paid for it beforehand.
There was now a perfect strife as to who should concoct the mulled wine, preparing for the betrothal of Adam and the Forest Miller's Tony. Leegart added her share of spice mentally, but very different from that you buy at the grocer's. She kept wishing that she could drop poison into it, and that all who drank it should die. Her only difficulty was whether to wish most for the death of the Röttmännin or that of the Forest Miller, who was about to sacrifice his child in such a criminal manner, in order to save her marriage portion.