Joseph now looked up with a face of surprise and curiosity, but he began to cry bitterly from terror, when the gigantic form of his father stood upright in the small attic; he probably appeared to the child like some monstrous apparition in a dream, and when the large figure interposed like a gloomy cloud, between the bed and the sunlight, the attic seemed almost as dark as night. Martina had no little trouble in pacifying the boy. Adam was obliged to leave the room till Joseph was dressed, and during the few minutes that he was standing outside the attic, while the mother was soothing the child, feelings of remorse for his past transgression again smote him—but only for a moment; he was Adam Röttmann still, who could and would be master of all; he was angry with the boy, who did not seem to care for him, nor to clasp him round the neck as he expected; he was resolved to teach him by stern discipline, and that this very day, he must love and honour him as his father.
When Joseph came out of the room he ran down stairs quickly, past Adam.
"The boy must be taught differently; this is not proper conduct towards his father," said Adam to Martina, indignantly.
She, however, begged him to think how much the boy must love him, to go in search of him through the snow, and at night, so fearlessly; as yet, however, the child was naturally shy, and his father still a stranger to him. Adam must try to win the love of his boy by gentleness and kindness, and not suppose he could do this by force.
"You are right, quite right," said Adam, and he went down the narrow stairs with such a heavy tread that the small house shook. Joseph was in the room below, seated on Schilder-David's knee, and Adam called to the boy, "You are to get a present from me to-day; what would you like? Tell me."
The boy did not come, but knit his brows, and looked at his father with a shy glance. He left his grandfather, but did not go to his father; he was staring with astonishment at the nail on the wall over the stove, for there hung a written document framed. Long before daylight, Schilder-David had replaced there Martina's Confirmation Certificate. A bright gleam of sunshine lighted up the text, which was: Revelations 3rd chapter, 11th verse. "Hold that fast which thou hast, that no man take thy crown."
In another house in the village, however, there was weeping and wailing, and that too in the best of all. In the Parsonage the maid sat in the kitchen, crying bitterly: "The fine fat goose, which was to have been roasted this very day, and it was the very thing for such a welcome guest: such a lovely bird, and so well frozen by hanging outside the window! and now in all the confusion last night, it has been stolen. I am sure it ought to choke those who were so wicked as to steal from the Pastor; and how like an angel he spoke to them, and thanked them for what they had done—and now they play him such a trick as this! He ought to bring it into his sermon today, and preach to them on an appropriate text; and the first man that coughs, has stolen the goose, I will go through the whole village, to spy out who has got my goose. I will find out whether the fox, the wolf, a dog, a weasel, or a raven has stolen it; but more likely far some wicked wretch, intending to roast it. I am resolved to get it back; we have really nothing for dinner to-day." These, and many other lamentations were poured forth amid bitter tears, and scolding, and execrations, by the maid in the kitchen, till at last the Pastor came into the kitchen, saying, "What is going on here?" The fact was duly detailed to him, and, as a proof of her assertion, the maid pointed out the empty hook on which the goose had hung outside the window.
"The hook is still there, but the goose is gone," said the girl, sobbing, and laying hold of the hook, as if she thought it the very thing to hang the thief upon. Brother Edward also came in, and the maid begged him to oblige her by looking at the hook. The Pastor turning to his brother-in-law, said, "It is often thus; just the very last delicate morsel, carefully cherished, falls on the floor, when it is actually stuck on your fork."
"And you are positively making a jest of it!" said the Pastorin to her husband; "you men never seem to have any idea of the great difficulty of preparing a good dinner in the country, and how pleasant it is when all is prepared; and it seemed quite a happy chance that my mother sent me some chesnuts."
"I am not making a jest of it; on the contrary, it is very annoying to me."