What the Swallow Sang: A Novel

by Friedrich Spielhagen

Gotthold had entered the house to look for Mine, a good young servant-girl whom he had often seen playing with Gretchen, and who appeared to be very devoted to Cecilia; perhaps he might learn from her something that would give a clew. He found her in the kitchen, where with eyes swollen with weeping, she was helping the housekeeper prepare bread and butter for the men's supper. When she caught sight of Gotthold she dropped the knife with a cry of joy, and came running towards him.

Gotthold told her to leave the room with him.

At first the good child's tears almost choked her words. The mistress had been very sad the last few weeks, much more sorrowful than usual; she had scarcely spoken except to Gretchen, whom she would never trust out of her sight, and even to her only when it was absolutely necessary. Yesterday she had remained out of doors alone until very late in the evening, and when she came in looked so pale and exhausted, and stared straight before her with such a fixed expression; she would not go to bed, however, but insisted that she should go to her mother in Neuenhof, who was very sick, and added that she need not come back before noon, and then the mistress had already been gone, no one knows how long. Rieke had certainly known it long before, but said nothing from fear of the other servants, and hid herself up stairs until the master came home. At first he scolded her furiously, and struck at her with his riding-whip, but Rieke cried and screamed that she would charge the master with it, and made such evil speeches that at last he took her away with him in the carriage; and her dear kind mistress had been obliged to go out of the house in the middle of the night, and dear sweet little Gretchen had not even had her new boots, for they were locked up in the closet, and she had the key in her pocket.

The girl began to cry again; Gotthold said a few words which were intended to be consoling, and was then obliged to turn away, for his own grief threatened to overpower him. The sobbing girl had reminded him of the sunny days when he sought out Cecilia in the garden, and played with Gretchen among the flower-beds.

When he came out of the house again, the men had finished their meals and were ready to set out. Prebrow, the blacksmith, was to search the forest on the left, and the Statthalter on the right of the road to Dahlitz. Cousin Boslaf would keep to the road itself. They were just going when Gotthold's chaise jolted into the courtyard; the spring was now entirely broken, and the tire was off of one wheel. Cousin Boslaf asked the Statthalter whether Herr Wenhofs old carriage was still there, and capable of being used. The carriage was there, and might be made fit for use. Then Clas Prebrow should repair it, put in a pair of fresh horses, and follow them. Gotthold looked at the old man inquiringly.

"I shall seek till I find her," said Cousin Boslaf, pushing the rifle farther over his shoulder, "and I shall find her--alive or dead; in either case we shall need the carriage."

They reached the forest; the men had already spread out to the right and left, and now pressed eagerly into its depths.

"I shall keep to the road," said Cousin Boslaf as they walked on side by side. "I can trust my old eyes, and I almost believe she has taken this way. She would reach the forest sooner, and directly behind the woods, in a ploughed field on the right, is the great marl-pit. When she was a child, a poor girl who had killed her new-born babe drowned herself there."

The old man did not change his long, regular stride as he spoke, and his keen eyes searched the deep furrows of the rough road, or glanced over the bashes and tree trunks on either side, between which, here in the depths of the forest, the darkness already brooded gloomily. The men within the woods shouted to each other, in order to keep together: oftentimes one of the dogs they had taken with them barked loudly, then for a moment all was silent again, save the wind sighing through the treetops, and shaking the rain-drops from the leaves. Then the old man paused, listened, and went on again, after convincing himself that the men still kept to their track, and nothing remarkable had happened.

So they came to the end of the forest, whose dark edge stretched out into the twilight on either side as far as the eye could reach. Nothing was to be seen of the men, who had been obliged to make their way through the underbrush more slowly. Cousin Boslaf pointed towards the right, where a short distance from the road, in the ploughed field, a round spot was relieved against the darker earth; it was the marl-pit, which the continual rain of the last few days had filled nearly to the brim.