"How glad I should have been, if I could have sat in the wagon beside him!" thought Landolin.
No one ever prayed--no one ever offered to an angel,--to a saint,--more childlike petitions than these--"Take me with you; deliver me from this misery,"--which had just passed Landolin's lips. But in these days the best are no longer good, and have no pity.
When Jörgli had gone the merriment began anew. They invited one another to drink, and new groups were soon formed. Only Landolin was not invited. He stood alone. Stop! Landolin struck his hand on his pocket, and the money jingled. With that a man can call a comrade who will talk with him better than any one else, and make him forget his cares.
He turned away from the meadow, and went to the city side of the Sword Inn. There were no guests there to-day. An old servant brought him wine. He drank alone, and had his glass refilled again and again.
As he still wanted every one to consider him of great importance, he explained to the old waitress that he was going to a bathing place for his health pretty soon. There they wouldn't let a man drink anything but mineral water, and so he was going to take plenty of wine before he went.
The old waitress said that was wise, and then returned to the illustrated paper which she had brought down from the Casino.
It was quiet in the cool room. Only a canary bird in his cage twittered awhile, and then began whistling half of the song "Who never on a spree did go."
Landolin frequently looked up at the bird and smiled; until, remembering Walderjörgli, he murmured, "Give my greeting to your wife."
CHAPTER LIII.
The mother slept in her chamber. Thoma sat at the table in the living-room before a large, handsomely-bound book, filled with beautiful pictures. It was an illustrated history of the last war, which Anton had given her. Many book-marks lay between the leaves, at the places where the battles in which Anton had taken part were described. There were many soldiers in the pictures, but Anton's face was not distinguishable. She had heard that he was not at the celebration to-day. It was on her account. What could she do for him? There seemed to be nothing that she could do. Thoma had intended to read, but she could not bring herself to it; and to-day it horrified her to see in the pictures the men murdering each other, and shell tearing them to pieces.