"Very well, as you like. Let Rosa sleep down here with you. But I tell you, you'll not be able to scare away what is coming to her. Nobody can scare away what is coming," she added impressively, and gazed at him with such a strange look in her black eyes that the superstitious man shuddered.
"Rosa is one of the chosen ones," she continued. "She sees what you'll never see, and hears what you'll never hear. Very well, let her come down to you. Take firm hold of her hands and of her feet, too, she'll still leave you." The woman grew more and more excited the longer she spoke, and she gazed at her husband with eyes full of rebuke. "It'll be bad for you that you resist in this way. The saints will bear it in mind, and will not forgive you, and when you cry out for them to deliver you from Purgatory, they will not deliver you. You're a wicked man, a scoffer and a blasphemer! Alas, alas, what will become of you?"
"Do you really think so, really?" Mr. Tiralla felt somewhat disconcerted, her great earnestness bewildered him, and he moved restlessly backwards and forwards on his chair. If she were right? No, it was nothing but romantic nonsense. He was still in possession of his senses, and he would never, no never, allow any one to persuade his little girl, his dear Röschen, who was to bring him so much happiness in this life--healthy grandchildren and all kinds of good things--to go into a convent. Yes, persuade her, that was the word. Sophia had always been too pious, he was sorry to say, and the priest, and the schoolmaster? "To the devil with you all!" he shouted, gaining courage at the sound of his own voice. "May he be struck with lightning who dares contradict me, when I say she's to be married as soon as possible. Nobody can be too young for that. And I'll procure her a nice husband. Then she'll grow happy and buxom, and when she gets a little boy on her lap--such a wee fellow who kicks about and wants nursing--then she'll not get any more of those stupid fancies. The Holy Virgin, the Holy Virgin! we pray to our Lady. But when Rosa is a mother herself, she'll have other things to think of." He laughed, his anger had almost disappeared again at the beautiful prospect which lay before him.
At that moment Mrs. Tiralla gave a shrill scream. "There, you see--there, you see what you've done."
Rosa had given a deep, plaintive sigh, her head had drooped forward like a withered flower, and she would have fallen from her chair if the schoolmaster had not caught her in his arms. She had fainted.
Mr. Tiralla was frightened to death. Alas, alas, what had he done? He would have liked to beat himself, to pull off his head. He struck his forehead with his clenched hand and called himself the most unflattering names he could think of, "fool, blockhead, idiot." He shouted for Marianna, roared for water, ordered Tokay--no, gin--wanted to pour it down the girl's throat, spilt it all over her, then called himself once more all kinds of names and almost wept.
They had pushed him away from his daughter. The schoolmaster still held her in his arms, whilst Marianna rubbed her cold feet and Mrs. Tiralla her temples, and breathed on her with the warm, vivifying breath from her powerful lungs. She did not feel so terrified, she knew what it was. Rosa used to faint very easily, it was on account of her age, the doctor had said, and there was nothing to be anxious about. But she pretended to be alarmed, for he deserved it. What if the child never recovered consciousness, never opened her eyes again? Alas, the Holy Virgin had sent it as a punishment.
The terrified man groaned aloud. Oh, God, he hadn't wanted to do that, not that! She should continue to sleep upstairs, he wouldn't say a word more about it, he would hide his own wishes deep down in his breast. Never again would he pollute her ears with such things, although he really couldn't understand in what way he had wounded her innocence to such a degree that she had fainted. Oh, he was a fool, he didn't understand any more what was going on in his own house. He remained sitting some time in silence, with his head buried in his hands. And then when the child began to stir and he heard her sigh and say in a feeble voice, "Ah, mammie," he got up hastily, took down his hat and coat from the rack and staggered out of the house.
He remained standing for a long time in the middle of the yard with his eyes fixed on the house. Wouldn't Rosa ask for him? Wouldn't she beg him to come to her?
But as nobody called him, and the light downstairs began to move about, then disappeared and finally shone in the little room upstairs--they were taking Rosa up to bed--he walked out of his gate with bent head.