"Look! there is my little patch of potato ground that I bought," said Franzl; "it was only a heap of stones, and I have cultivated it so well during the four years I have had it, that it is worth double, and the potatoes it grows are like flour."
"Potatoes may be very precious in the sight of the Knuslingers, but you shall get something better now," answered Pilgrim. He then detailed to her every particular, with regard to the rescue of the inhabitants of the house on the Morgenhalde, and told her that they all were now to live with old Petrowitsch, and that they were the best of friends; the old miser seemed entirely changed, and Annele's first request was, that Franzl should be sent for. Franzl sobbed aloud when Pilgrim told her that Annele's hair was now snow white.
At every house they passed, where lights were visible, Franzl would fain have stopped and told them the famous news. "There lives so and so, such good kind people! and they all deplored poor Lenz's fate; and it is hard that they should go on lamenting, when there is no longer any occasion for it. And they will jump sky high for joy, when they hear that the first thing they did was to send for old Franzl; and who knows if I may ever see them again to say good bye to them?"
Pilgrim, however, drove pitilessly past all these good men, and would not stop anywhere. When any one opened a window, and looked out at the sledge, then Franzl called out as loud as she could: "Good bye, and God bless you!"
And although, from the ringing of the bells, no one heard a word she said, still she had the satisfaction of having shouted a kind word to the good souls; for who knows when she might come back to Knuslingen?—perhaps never!
At the farm where Kathrine lived, Pilgrim was obliged to stop to feed his horse, but—there is no perfect joy on this earth—Kathrine, alas! was not at home. As she had no children of her own, she was constantly taking charge of those of her neighbours; and she was now nursing one of them in her confinement. Franzl, however, sent her a minute account of all that had happened, through the sempstress who was sewing in the house; and she repeated every word twice over, that she might not forget it.
When she got into the sledge again, she first fully enjoyed her happiness. "Now," said she, "I feel so much better. It is like sleeping soundly, but waking up for a moment in the night, and saying to one's self: Oh! this is famous,—and going sound asleep again."
Pilgrim, however, had nearly destroyed all her delight by a foolish joke of his.
"Franzl," said he, "you will have but a meagre portion now, I fear, up yonder."
"Up where?"