A violent struggle must have taken place in Landolin's soul, and it showed itself in his manner. He walked restlessly up and down the room. He clenched his hands; he opened them again. At length he stood still before the judge's wife and said:
"Madam, even should you succeed with me, seven angels could not tear a wicked woman from her wickedness. 'Tis easier to drag a fox from his hole with the bare hand. Perhaps you do not know that Cushion-Kate has always had a hardened disposition. Perhaps she cannot help it. Her mother stood at the church door with a straw wreath on her head before Cushion-Kate was born. No, Madam Pfann, with me--you have seen--I let myself be persuaded; but who knows----"
"Just leave that to me. Oh, dear Landolin, you'll make my life more happy if you'll obey me; and every morsel you eat, every moment you sleep, will be doubly blessed to you. Come now with me to Cushion-Kate."
"I go to Cushion-Kate! If she wants anything of me she may come to me. I wouldn't like to tell you of all she tries to do to me on highway and byway."
"And for that very reason go to her with me now. I know very well what that is--Landolin to Cushion-Kate;--but do not ask yourself now if you are doing too much--if you are lowering yourself. Come with me! Give me your hand. Come!"
"Very well. I will go with you."
It was quiet in the road; no one was to be seen while Landolin walked along with the judge's wife. She frequently looked at her companion, as if in fear that he might suddenly turn and run away; but he kept step with her, and only where the road and the meadow path met he stopped and said:
"I should never have believed it if any one had told me that I should do this. But I do it for your sake; and Cushion-Kate may curse and insult me as she will. I will say nothing in return."
"She will change for the better," said the judge's wife, confidently.