The horses’ hoofs struck the soft road with a muffled sound. The wheels started a second time. Gerson Brandt closed his ears for a moment, and then, rising, listened for the last sound of the carriage. He was still standing in the deserted square when Hans Peter spoke to him.
“It is almost the beginning of a new hour,” the fool said.
Gerson Brandt examined his big, silver watch by the light of the lantern.
“Midnight!” he called, in a voice out of which all hope had gone. “Midnight!—”
“And all is well!” cried the simple one, taking up the words that Gerson Brandt had not power to speak.
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE
- Silently corrected typographical errors and variations in spelling.
- Archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings retained as printed.