And now Julius came and told me that Ludwig had obtained a dispensation for the marriage of the young people without the delay of publishing the banns. Rontheim and his wife had at first been disinclined to consent to such haste, but Ludwig had persistently urged them. And now it was determined that the wedding should take place to-day, and that his cousin, the vicar, should marry them, for Martha had insisted that they should be married by a clergyman. Whereupon Ludwig said: "We are certainly very tolerant towards these believers."
I had ceased to be surprised by anything.
We marched towards the church to the sound of music, the ringing of bells, and the noise of cannon, which the mountains re-echoed. But when we reached the spring, which, as I afterwards learned, had been decorated by Martella, I felt a pang. Why could Gustava not have lived to enjoy this? And then, repressing the sad thought, I let joy descend upon me, and said to myself, "Keep thyself erect, and in health, so that thou mayest not disturb the happiness of the many who belong to thee."
When we reached the spring at the edge of the woods, we halted. What to us had seemed impossible, Ludwig had already accomplished. The iron column was already there, and around it were stone seats, and also a high bench, where people might lay aside their burdens.
"One learns these things in America," said Ludwig. "There they do not care for yesterday, and do not console themselves with the hope of to-morrow: all must live in the present."
After leaving the church, where the wedding was celebrated in a simple manner, we marched in procession to the family woods, where, by Ludwig's orders, great tables had been erected; and on our way there he told me how clever Ikwarte had been in the work.
I cannot find words to speak of the great table in the woods.
Before we seated ourselves, we were all obliged to remain perfectly still for a short time. Ludwig had made arrangements to have the whole group photographed. They all say that I look very sad in the picture; it may be so, for I could not help thinking, "Where is Ernst now? Does the sun that now shines on us, shine on him too?" It is especially pleasant to see Martella and Rothfuss in the background, holding each other's hands. Annette is also in the family picture; her eyes are downcast, while Richard is looking towards her. Since the loss of her husband, she had never laid aside her mourning, but to-day she wore colors.
The Major's speech at the dinner was even better than the vicar's in the church.
Martella's best and only treasure was Ernst's prize cup. She had placed it before me on the table, and Annette had wound a garland of flowers around it.