A hollow sound is heard. The earth is opening, surely, to swallow up the house! It is like thunder—underground, and overhead. A violent concussion makes the house shake. And suddenly all is pitch dark. The blackest night reigns everywhere.
"In God's name, what is it?" screamed Annele.
Lenz raised himself with difficulty. "I don't know, I don't know."
"What has happened?" Annele and the child cried and screamed. And Lenz called out, "Good God! what is it?" They were all stupefied. Lenz tried to open a window, but could not succeed. He groped his way to the next room, but all was dark there too. He stumbled over a chair, and ran back into Annele's room, calling out, "Annele, we are buried alive! buried in the snow!"Neither of them could utter a syllable, but the child screamed loudly, and the poultry in their coops screeched wildly, as if a weasel had come among them; then all was still, as still as death.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
A FRIEND IN NEED.
At this very hour Pilgrim intended to have gone to church; but on the way he turned, and went several times past Petrowitsch's house. At last he stopped at the door, and pulled the bell.
Petrowitsch had long since observed him from his window, and when he now rung, Petrowitsch said to himself, "So you are coming to me? You shall not soon forget your reception."
Petrowitsch was in very bad humour, as cross as if he had been suffering from the effects of intoxication, and it was very nearly the same. He had been tempted to revel in old remembrances, and to entrust another with his secret life. He was provoked with himself, for not having been able to withstand the temptation of appearing good, in the eyes of one man. He felt ashamed of ever facing the Doctor again in broad daylight. His usual pride, which made him say he was quite indifferent to what the world thought of him, was all gone. Now Pilgrim was come, and on him should be discharged the whole vials of his wrath. He will neither play the guitar, nor sing, nor whistle today.