"Walderjörgli sent his greeting to you; he charged me with it twice."
He had sufficient self-control to say all this with a steady voice, and his wife replied:
"I know it already; the doctor told me that Walderjörgli was there. Where he is, everything goes right. Thank him. Good-night."
Landolin threw himself into the great chair out in the living-room, and cried:
"Oh, what misery it is to come home and find your wife sick, and no joy, no welcome, nothing!"
He looked at Thoma, who, without moving or making a sound, stood leaning against the bedroom door.
To what a pass has it come when, in the midst of such misery, the father thinks of himself alone!
Landolin arose wearily and whispered to Thoma:
"You've noticed that I'm tipsy? Yes, I am; and if you do not treat me affectionately, as you used to, I will be so every day,--then you'll see what will come of it!"
"I cannot keep you from doing what you choose, either to yourself or to us."
"Bring me something to drink. I'm very thirsty," ordered Landolin. Thoma went, and returned with a bottle.
"That is nothing but water! But never mind; you're right. You're sharp."
For the first time in many days, father and daughter laughed together, but their laughter soon died away.
"The farmer works like a hired man," said the servants and day-laborers on Landolin's farm.
It was true that Landolin was the first up in the morning, and the last abed at night; and that he took hold of the work in the field he had never done before. His appetite was good, and he slept all night without tossing about. He never left the farm, neither week-days nor Sunday; and he did what cost him a great effort: he said in the presence of the servants that Peter should now have the control of everything; for in the few years he had left, he wanted to see with his own eyes how Peter would carry things on after they should be closed forever.
His speech was milder, and his manner less haughty.
He seemed grateful that a heavy storm had passed over his house without breaking; for his wife was out of danger. To be sure, she was yet ailing, and had to keep her room; but she seemed to revive when she saw that her husband had discovered the best mode of living; that is--to be independent of the world's opinion, and to keep his own life straight. She did not know that he had discovered what a treasure he had in his wife, and he did not tell her; for he could not express himself on the subject.