Jaspar passed his great hand across his brow; the expression of his face was troubled and irresolute. "I know not what answer to give you," he said at length.
"Indeed, father, this foolish weakness is unworthy of thee," said Dorlat, scowling from under his shaggy brows at the pastor.
"Yes, why should the impertinent old preacher have his way with us after all?" yelled Hervitz, in his shrill falsetto. "If we let him hence with a whole skin and an unbruised head, surely that is more than he deserves who comes thus a-meddling."
"And as for Freskel," added Dorlat, "we can make use of him yet, fool though he be; but even if not, better get rid of him in some other way than give him to be turned against his own flesh and blood, and become their enemy."
"Jaspar Valden, it was to you that I appealed, and for your answer I wait," said the pastor, taking no notice of what the young men said, and not even glancing in their diction.
"You hear what these, my sons say?" asked the old man, with an uneasy look at the two evil faces beside him. "Well, as you know that we are a united family," (here he gave a hard, bitter laugh), "of course what they speak, I must stand to."
"God help you then!" sighed Pastor Oshart. "And the boy Freskel remains with you?"
"He remains with us."
"Then, since this is final, I have only to say good-night," said Pastor Oshart.
For one moment he paused with the door open, but there was no response to his farewell from either Jaspar or his sons; so he gave them one last sad look, then shut himself out into the darkness and plodded wearily home, cast down in even that brave heart of his, and murmuring, as he gazed up to the silent stars, "'O Lord, I have laboured in vain, and I have spent my strength for nought.'"