"Herr Pastor! no one in the world knows me as I really am—neither my father, nor my mother—no one but my Martina. You, Herr Pastor, do know something of me; but not everything. What you have just said is very true; I have been a wild fellow; always ready to hit every man—a word and a blow; and I fear it is true, that I had not, hitherto, entirely subdued this wild fellow within me; but, Herr Pastor, he is now down for ever, and you and my Martina ... only give me some penance to perform; I will submit cheerfully, for I deserve it. Desire me to hack off my fingers, that I may become as weak as a child, and I will not shrink from it."
Adam's emotion was so great that he could not say another word, and the Pastor resumed—
"The law is, that you must be proclaimed three Sundays following."
"Is it not enough that the perils of my child made my blood run cold in my veins? Tell me what to do, Herr Pastor, and I will do it."
"Oh! Herr Pastor," entreated Martina; "have we not been punished severely enough? Have we not repented long enough?"
"No! you conducted yourself very properly during your long trial, but your sin was no light one. It shall never be said that those who once set the law at defiance, shall do the same now."
"If we cannot help ourselves, we must submit, I suppose," said Adam. Martina could not speak for tears. The Pastor let her remain for a time quiet, and then said:—
"Come with me to the next room."
"Is it all arranged?" asked the Pastorin.
Adam and Martina shook their heads, and Speidel-Röttmann came forward and said, "Herr Pastor, is it on account of the banns?"