Anton stood before them. Landolin arose and held out his hand. Thoma kept her seat, and wrapping both arms in her apron, said only "Good evening."
Landolin made room for Anton beside him, and told Thoma to come and sit on the bench too. But she replied, "I am quite comfortable where I am; besides, I must go in to mother. She is not at all well."
"You will stay here," said Landolin, in his old commanding voice. Then he explained to Anton that he would have liked to go to see his father, but--and it was hard for him to say this--he did not wish to be obtrusive; and so he waited for people to come to see him. He thanked Anton for his favorable testimony at the trial, and said, that he was glad that he had kept his conscience so clear.
"When I saw you standing there so resolutely, and heard you speak so firmly, I loved you twice as much as before," he added.
Anton understood what it meant for the proud and arrogant Landolin to speak in this manner.
Hesitatingly, at first, and then in well-considered words, Anton explained that he had come to beg father and daughter to go with him to the celebration; that would show the whole world at one stroke that everything was all right again, and everybody would congratulate them anew.
No word, no motion showed that Thoma had heard him. Anton continued in a tremulous tone:
"Thoma, dear Thoma! You sit there as though you were frozen, but I know that deep in your heart, love for me is still burning. Thoma, for this once throw away your pride."
"Pride?" said Thoma, in a low voice.
Anton did not hear her, for he went on: "Thoma, you turned me away. I too am proud, but not with you. I have come back again. Show yourself as good and loving as you really are. Give me one single word--one kind word."