Bruno quieted his conscience with the knowledge that he had not meant it to be thus. Dire fate, and an almost inconceivable combination of terrors, had led him from the right road.
Here, no one knew him. Suddenly, he heard the sounds of music and saw several carriages, decorated with green boughs, driving along the road. "What's this? a wedding?" he inquired of the peasant who had already given him some information as to the road.
"I don't know, but I think they must be town folk, or else they couldn't ride about in harvest time. Maybe they're coming from the election."
Bruno again mounted his horse. When he asked for the nearest road to Wildenort, the peasant looked at him in surprise, and pointed to a bridle-path on which he could not miss his way. But Bruno, who had lost all taste for the woods, preferred keeping to the highway. He passed a long string of wagons preceded by a band of music with a flag of black, red, and gold. He hurried by them, for he was not in a mood to listen to music.
CHAPTER VI.
Even before Gunther's arrival, Eberhard had been bled. Gunther had brought a small medicine-chest with him, and had hastily compounded some remedies which had relieved and quieted the patient. He was now sleeping. Great drops of perspiration stood on his brow. Irma still sat concealed behind the screen. She could see her father, but could not be seen by him. Drawing a deep breath, he awoke and looked about him. Irma hastened to him. He gazed at her fixedly, and then motioned her to open the window.
The day was bright and sunny; the cool, balmy breezes wafted the fragrance of the woods into the room. The cracking of whips was heard. Eberhard's features acquired a pleased expression, for he knew that they were now bringing in the first sheaves from the swamp which he had redeemed.
Steps were heard in the ante-chamber, and Gunther came in, accompanied by the farm bailiff.
"Come in," said he, "it will please your master."
With a heavy tread, the bailiff walked up to the sick man's bedside. In his right hand he held some of the ripened grain, while, with his left, he beat his breast as if to force out the words: