"You need not weep--I have done enough of it myself, already," said she. "But I knew it--you are a good child, and you would not be so cruel as to die before me. Get up and pick up my spindle. Have you eaten anything, Carl? You must be hungry."
When Carl told her that he did not wish for anything, she replied, "Indeed, I have nothing but cold boiled potatoes. Now, do tell me, how did it seem when you were dead? You surely thought of me at the last moment? Tell me, did you not last night at three o'clock, wherever you were, say to yourself, 'Mother, I am not dead: I shall soon be with you--I will come soon--I will come soon?"
Carl answered that he had really uttered those very words at the time mentioned.
"That is right," said the old woman.
She arose from her seat, took her son by the hand, and went on to say, "Now, come up into the village with me. Let us go with these gentlemen. Major, I thank you for the honor of your visit. I suppose I may go along with you?"
We returned homewards.
It was already known through the whole village, that the young man who had been lost and so sincerely deplored had returned. Friends poured forth from every doorway, while from the windows cries of "Welcome Carl!" were heard.
On our way we met Marie, carrying a bundle of clover on her head. She threw her bundle away and hurried towards Carl; but when she came up to him she suddenly stopped, as if frightened.
"Good-day, Marie. I am glad that you, too, have come to bid me welcome," said Carl.
He extended both his hands to her, and she took hold of them, but did not utter a word.