There is still merriment in the world; song, music, and laughter. Joyous, singing, laughing people drive along the plateau in wagons decorated with flowers and green boughs. They are seen and heard from Landolin's house; he nods to them from the open window; he is in holiday attire and has decided to go to the celebration, and take part again in the world's gayety. Turning, he said to his wife, who sat in the room:
"Hanne, Thoma won't go; can't you go with me?"
"I would rather you'd let me stay at home."
Landolin would have liked to say, "If you are with me they will pay me more respect;" but he could not bring himself to say it. He had humbled himself before the humblest; but before his wife he could not--she had always been so submissive to him. He often looked toward Thoma and wondered if she would not tell him what had passed between her and Anton the day before; and if she would not go with him to the celebration; but she remained motionless and silent. He ordered the wagon to be hitched up immediately; but Peter said that the horses had worked so much in the harvest-field during the week that they would have to rest to-day: at most the bay mare might be saddled, but that wouldn't be wise. Landolin looked at Peter furiously, but he did not want to quarrel with him; for, as long as they did not disagree openly, it was not noticeable that the authority was no longer his. So he consented to ride, but soon changed his mind and said he would go on foot.
As the church bells began to ring, he started for the city. "Won't you go to church, too?" asked his wife timidly. He answered angrily:
"No! They have sung and prayed thus far without me. I guess they can keep it up awhile longer."
This he said; but he thought besides: "They must treat me kindly before they can pray with clear conscience."
"Won't you wait till afternoon? I have something nice for you," said his wife.
"You are always talking about eating--beginning about dinner already! I have money in my pocket, and shall get myself something in town."
His wife made no answer, but pressed her prayer-book to her bosom. There are no more good thoughts in the book than in her heart, but both are now dumb.