The musical clock continued playing the Hallelujah, the Schoolmaster joined, and the whole of the Choral Society sung with him in full loud tones. It seemed as if an impetus had been given to the mass of snow by the powerful chorus, for the avalanche rolled away from the front of the house down into the valley.
The house stood free.
The door had remained open, and the moment the windows were also thrown up, the raven shot away into the sky, over the heads of all the assembled people.
"The bird is off," cried the child.
Outside, however, a raven had been long wheeling about, waiting for its mate; and now they flew along together, first high into the air, and then dipping down in circles far away over the valley.
The first woman who came up to Annele, was Ernestine, her cousin, who had heard of the sad catastrophe, and also of the death of the Landlady, Annele's mother, and had hurried to Annele in the hope of comforting her; she knelt down beside her; Lenz was leaning on Pilgrim.
Petrowitsch was becoming very indignant, that nobody took any charge of him, when luckily the Techniker came up to him just in time, wishing him joy of his providential escape. "So far so good," thought the old man; "this is the only well bred man of the whole band." Pilgrim too was very kind, and said aloud: "I beg your pardon for having hugged you so tight; I took you for Lenz: pray shake hands with me."
Petrowitsch gave him his hand instantly.
"I found a piece of your mother's writing in the snow," said Faller in a hoarse voice; "the words are almost effaced, but you can still see—'This plant is called Edelweiss—Marie Lenz.'"
"That paper is mine!" exclaimed Annele, starting to her feet. All looked at her in astonishment, and Ernestine screamed out:—"Annele, Annele! Look at her for God's sake! her hair is as white as snow!"