She darted her eyes at him again; but he was too bashful to bow any more. Then the carriage drove off.
Johannes took himself home.
Dear me, what a funny little place it was! He could hardly get into the door without stooping. His parents brought out wine for the occasion. His feelings gripped him, it was all so dear and so touching, his father and mother so good and so grey, they gave him their hands in turn and welcomed him home again.
The very same evening he walked round and looked at everything, the mill, the quarry and the place where he used to fish, listened with a touch of sadness to the birds he knew which were already building their nests in the trees, and took a turn round by the big anthill in the woods. The ants were gone, the hill was deserted. He dug into it, there was not a sign of life. As he wandered about he noticed that a lot of trees had been cut down in the Castle woods.
"Do you recognize the place again?" his father asked jokingly. "Have you found your old thrushes?"
"I find some changes. There's been some felling."
"It's the Master's wood," his father answered. "It's not for us to count his trees. Anybody may be in want of money; the Master wants a deal of money."
The days came and went, mild, lovely days, wonderful hours of solitude, with gentle memories of childhood, the call of earth and sky, of air and hills.
He walked along the road to the Castle. He had been stung by a wasp that morning and his upper lip was swollen; if he met any one he would just bow and pass on. He met nobody. In the Castle garden he saw a lady; when he came nearer he bowed deeply and passed on. It was the Lady of the house. His heart still beat as of old when he went past the Castle. Respect for the big house, the many windows, the Master's severe and dignified person was still in his blood.