Seldwyla Folks: Three Singular Tales

by Gottfried Keller

Vreni looked around. "Here to this halberd let us hang it. For more than a century it has been in our house, as I've often heard father say. Now it stands at the door as the last sentinel."

So they hung the rusty key of the housedoor to one of the rustier curves of the stout weapon, which was fairly overgrown with bean vines, and sallied forth.

But after all Vreni grew faint, and Sali had to support her the first score steps, the parting with the place where her cradle had stood making her sad. But she did not look back.

"Where are we bound for first?" she wanted to know.

"Let us make a regular excursion across the country," said Sali, "and stop at a spot where we shall be comfortable all day long. And don't let us hurry. Towards evening we shall easily be able to find a dance going on."

"Good," answered Vreni. "Thus we shall be together the whole day, and go where we like. But above all, I feel quite faint. Let us stop in the next village and get some coffee."

"Of course," said the young man. "But let us first get away from here."

Soon they were in the open, fields of ripe, waving corn or else of fresh stubble around them, and went along, quietly and full of deep contentment, close to each other, breathing the pure air as though freed from prison walls. It was a delicious Sunday morning in September. There was not a cloud to be seen in the sky of deep azure, and in the distance the hills and woods were enwrapped in a delicate haze, so that the whole landscape looked more solemn and mysterious. From everywhere the tolling of the church bells was heard, the harmonious deep tones of a big swinging bell belonging to a wealthy congregation, or the talkative two small bells of a poor village that made fast time to create any impression at all. The lovers forgot completely as to what was to become of them at the end of this rare day, forgot the disturbing uncertainties of their young lives, and gave themselves up completely to the intoxicating delights of the moment, sank their very souls in a calm joy that knew no words and no fears. Neatly clothed, free to come or go, like two happy ones who before God and men belong to each other by all rights, they went forth into the still Sunday country side. Each slight sound or call, reverberating and finally losing itself in the general silence, shook their hearts as though the strings of a harp had been touched by divine fingers. For Love is a musical instrument which makes resound the farthest and the most indifferent subjects and changes them into a music all its own.

Though both were hungry and faint, the half hour's walk to the next village seemed to them but a step, and they entered slowly the little inn that stood at the entrance to the place.

Sali ordered a substantial and appetizing breakfast, and while it was being prepared they observed, quiet as two mice, the interior of this homely place of entertainment, everything in it being scrupulously clean and orderly, from the walls and tables and napkins to the hearth and floor. The guest room itself was large and airy, and the window panes glittered in the furtive rays of the sun. The host of the inn was at the same time a baker, and his last baking, just out of the oven, spread a delicious odor through the whole house. Stacks of fresh loaves were carried past them in clean baskets, since after church service the members of the congregation were in the habit of getting here their white bread or to drink their noon shoppen. The hostess, a rather handsome and neat woman, dressed in their Sunday finery all her little brood of children, leisurely and pleasantly, and as she was done with one more of the little ones, the latter, proud and glad, would come running to Vreni, showing her all their finery, and innocently boasting and bragging of their belongings and of all else they held precious.