Wolfgang was already upstairs in his room. But he had first crept softly up to Cilia, who was drying the plates and dishes in the kitchen, from behind, had given her a pinch and then thrown both arms round her and begged for a story: "Tell me something"--but she would not.
"I don't know anything."
"Oh, do tell me something. About the procession. Or even if it's only about your sow. How many little ones did she have last time?"
"Thirteen." Cilia could not resist that question, but still she remained taciturn.
"Is your cow going to calve this year too? How many cows has the biggest farmer near you? You know, the one down near the Warthe, Hauländer. Do tell me." He knew all about everything, knew all the people at her home and all the cattle. He could never get tired of hearing about them and about the country where the bells tinkle for matins and vespers or call with a deep, solemn sound for high mass on Sundays. He was so very fond of hearing about the country, about the large fields in which the blue flax and golden rye grow, about the bluish line of forest on the horizon, about the wide, wide stretches of heath, where the bees buzz busily over the blooming heather and the fen-fowls screech near the quiet waters in the evening, when the sky and the sun are reflected red in them.
"Tell me about it," he begged and urged her.
But she was reluctant and shook her head. "No, go away; no, I won't. The mistress has been looking at me like that again this evening--oh, like--no, I can't explain. I believe she's going to give me notice."
He had crept up to his room in a sulk and undressed himself. He had grown so accustomed to it that he could not sleep now when Cilia did not tell him something first. Then he fell into such a quiet sleep, and dreamt so beautifully of wide stretches of heather covered with red blossoms, and of quiet waters near which the fen-fowls screeched, which he went out to shoot.
Oh, that Cilia, what was the matter with her to-day? How stupid! "The mistress is going to give me notice." Nonsense, as if he would stand that. And he clenched his hand.
Then the door creaked.