“How is it that the prophetess of Zanah hath time to spend in the company of men?” asked Mother Kaufmann. “It might be better to pass the days alone, praying and reading the Bible.”
“How is it that Mother Kaufmann dares to speak thus sharply in the presence of the woman chosen to guide the colony of Zanah?” retorted Gerson Brandt.
“I like not this dispensation which permits Walda Kellar to be brought under the influence of a sinful man of the world.”
Mother Kaufmann spoke in her guttural German. She had advanced close to Gerson Brandt.
“The colony is not ruled by old women, and thy likes weigh little in Zanah,” declared Karl Weisel, whose chair had been drawn near to the one chosen by Gretchen Schneider.
“If Zanah were ruled by old women the head of the thirteen elders would not be coveting the daughter of the Herr Doktor,” said Mother Kaufmann, losing all caution in her anger.
Gretchen Schneider’s thin face turned a livid yellow, and Karl Weisel sprang forward as if he would like to grasp the woman by the throat.
“Peace, children of Zanah,” commanded Walda, rising in majestic indignation. “Your words are shameful. Put away from you the spirit of contention.”
Wilhelm Kellar had made an effort to speak, but in the excitement of the moment his tongue refused to frame the words. Everett, looking at him, saw that there were beads of perspiration on his brow and that he looked exhausted.
“Send these people out of the room,” he said to Gerson Brandt. “Wilhelm Kellar must be kept quiet.” He went to the table, where he began to mix a soothing draught, while Gerson Brandt dismissed the three visitors. The school-master preceded them out of the room, leaving Walda and Everett to soothe the sick man, who showed signs of extreme exhaustion. When the medicine had been administered, Walda drew together the white curtains and placed a chintz screen before the window.