“Good luck!” said the farmer, gave Sami his hand and went away.
Then the driver swung himself up on his seat and the two strong horses started off. Although the wood-wagon was far less handsome and easy than the coach in which Sami had come, still he sat much happier in his hard seat than when he had left his grandmother lying so alone and had to go away, without knowing where. Now he was going home, where he knew everything and where everything was dear to him, every tree and every wall by the way; and although he wouldn’t see his grandmother any longer, he would find all the places where he had been with her and where it was more beautiful than anywhere else. With these thoughts a multitude of questions arose in Sami’s mind: Would everything be still the same as before? Would the ash-trees still be standing there by the wall? and the red and yellow flowers be growing on the hillside? And Sami had so much to think about that he didn’t notice how the time was passing. So he was very much astonished when the wagon stopped, for they had come to a large village, and the driver took firm hold of him, lifted him up and set him down on the street. Sami looked around him. They had stopped in front of an inn, above which a big brown bear stood for a sign and which was surrounded by all kinds of vehicles. But he couldn’t look around any longer, for the driver had already seized him again and lifted him together with his bundle into another team and then went away. Soon he came back with a large piece of bread and said:
“There, eat; you still have far to go.”
“Are we yet in Château d’Æux?” asked Sami.
“Yes, to be sure, but you are going farther,” was the reply; then the driver disappeared.
Sami was now sitting in a small country wagon to which an enormous horse was harnessed. No one was as yet up in the high seat, but Sami was seated with his bundle back in the empty space on the floor. Then two big, stout men climbed up on the high seat, and they started away. After a short time Sami’s eyes closed involuntarily, he slipped off on the floor of the wagon, his head fell over on his bundle, and he sank into a deep sleep. When he woke again, he was still in the wagon on the floor, but everything was quiet around him; he did not hear the horse trotting; the wagon was no longer moving forward. It looked very strange all around him. He looked, and looked again, until he realized what had happened. The wagon was standing without horse or driver in a shed; they had forgotten Sami and left him lying there.
“Where can I be?” Sami asked himself. The door of the shed stood open, and outside there was bright sunshine. Sami climbed down from his sleeping-place, stepped outside and went a little way farther around the house, which stood directly in front of the shed. Then he knew everything about it—there stood the house with the garden, where he had taken the beautiful coach; right before him was the railway station—he was in Aigle again. Only a little way farther in the train and he would be at home!
Then it came to Sami that here he could no longer talk with the people, for now he was among the French. But he knew what to do. He still had the little bag with his grandmother’s money. He ran to the place where the people were getting their tickets, laid a piece of money in front of the little window, and said: “La Tour!”
Immediately he had his ticket; he sprang into the train, which was already standing outside, and crouched down quickly in his corner, the very same corner where he had sat before with Herr Malon. He knew all the names which were called out at the stations; nearer and nearer he came—now—“La Tour!” He jumped down and ran to the right across the fields, then to the left up the hill. He knew every tree along the way. Now—there stood the wall, there stood the ash-trees and their tops were waving to and fro. Underneath, the clear brook was murmuring, and above, on the hillside, the bright sun was shining on the big golden primroses and the red anemones. It was all exactly as it had been before! Moreover, above—oh, that was the most beautiful of all!—up in the ash-trees the birds were piping and singing as loudly and as merrily as ever and, to be sure, there was the chief singer, the finch. “Trust! Trust! Trust! Trust!” sounded his clear song, and all the birds joined in with their warbling and rejoiced loudly:
“Only trust the dear Lord!”