After awhile the farmer’s wife offered to conduct Arnold to his quarters for the night, but Arnold asked permission to await the return of the master of the house, if his return were not delayed too long. His interest in the man who had at first seemed to him so vulgar, and in the humble family whose existence he had thought to be so valueless, continued to increase.
The vigil was prolonged, however, and Moser did not return. The children had fallen asleep one after another, and even Jean, who had held out the longest, had to seek his bed at last. Dorothée, uneasy, went incessantly from the fireside to the door and from the door to the fireside. Arnold strove to reassure her, but her mind was excited by suspense. She accused Moser of never thinking of his health or of his safety; of always being ready to sacrifice himself for others; of being unable to see a human being or an animal suffer without risking all to relieve it. As she went on with her complaint, which sounded strangely like a glorification, her fears grew more vivid; she had a thousand gloomy forebodings. The dog had howled all through the previous night; an owl had perched upon the roof of the house; it was a Wednesday, always an unfortunate day in the family. Her fears reached such a pitch at last that the young man volunteered to go in search of her husband, and she was about to awaken Fritz to accompany him, when the sound of footsteps was heard outside.
“It is Moser!” said the woman, stopping short.
“Oho, there, open quickly, wife,” cried the farmer from without.
She ran to draw the bolt, and Moser appeared, carrying in his arms the old blind dog.
“Here he is,” he said gayly. “God help me! I thought I should never find him: the poor brute had rolled to the bottom of the big stone quarry.”
“And you went there to get him?” asked Dorothée, horror-stricken.
“Should I have left him at the bottom to find him drowned to-morrow?” asked the old soldier. “I slid down the length of the big mountain and I carried him up in my arms like a child: the lantern was left behind, though.”
“But you risked your life, you foolhardy man!” cried Dorothée, who was shuddering at her husband’s explanation.
The latter shrugged his shoulders.