Debts of Honor | Page 7

so."
Lorand nudged the old retainer so that he would not speak before me.
My brain became only more confused thereat.
Lorand told him that we would soon pass through the gardens; however, after John had advanced a good distance with the cart we followed in his tracks again, keeping steadily on until we came to the first row of houses beginning the village. Here my brother began to thread his way more cautiously, and in the dark I heard distinctly the click of the trigger as he cocked his gun.
The cart proceeded quietly before us to the end of the long village street.
Above the workhouse about six men armed with pitchforks met us.
My brother said we must make our way behind a hedge, and bade me hold our dog's mouth lest he should bark when the others passed.
The pitchforked guards passed near the cart, and advanced before us too. I heard how the one said to the other:
"Faith, that is the reason this cursed wind is blowing so furiously!"
"That" was the reason! What was the reason?
As they passed, my brother took my hand and said: "Now let us hasten, that we may be home before the wagon."
Therewith he ran with me across a long cottage-court, lifted me over a hedge, climbing after me himself; then through two or three more strange gardens, everywhere stepping over the hedges; and at last we reached our own garden.
But, in Heaven's name, had we committed some sin, that we ran thus, skulking from hiding-place to hiding-place?
As we reached the courtyard, the wagon was just entering. Three retainers waited for it in the yard, and immediately closed the gate after it.
Grandmother stood outside on the terrace and kissed us when we arrived.
Again there followed a short whispering between my brother and the domestics; whereupon the latter seized pitchforks and began to toss down the hay from the wain.
Could they not do so by daylight?
Grandmother sat down on a bench on the terrace, and drew my head to her bosom. Lorand leaned his elbows upon the rail of the terrace and watched the work.
The hay was tossed into a heap and the high wind drove the chaff on to the terrace, but no one told the servants to be more careful.
This midnight work was, for me, so mysterious.
Only once I saw that Lorand turned round as he stood, and began to weep; thereupon grandmother rose, and they fell each upon the other's breast.
I clutched their garments and gazed up at them trembling. Not a single lamp burned upon the terrace.
"Sh!" whispered grandmother, "don't weep so loudly," she was herself choking with sobs. "Come, let us go."
With that she took my hand, and, leaning upon my brother's arm, came down with us into the courtyard, down to the wagon, which stood before the garden gate. Two or more heaps of straw hid it from the eye; it was visible only when we reached the bottom of the wagon.
On that wagon lay the coffin of my father.
So this it was that in the dead of night we had stealthily brought into the village, that we had in so skulking a manner escorted, and had so concealed; and of which we had spoken in whispers. This it was that we had wept over in secret--my father's coffin. The four retainers lifted it from the wagon, then carried it on their shoulders toward the garden. We went after it, with bared heads and silent tongues.
A tiny rivulet flowed through our garden; near this rivulet was a little round building, whose gaudy door I had never seen open.
From my earliest days, when I was unable to rise from the ground if once I sat down, the little round building had always been in my mind.
I had always loved it, always feared to be near it; I had so longed to know what might be within it. As a little knickerbockered child I would pick the colored gravel-stones from the mortar, and play with them in the dust; and if perchance one stone struck the iron door, I would run away from the echo the blow produced.
In my older days it was again only around this building that I would mostly play, and would remark that upon its fa?ade were written great letters, on which the ivy, that so actively clambered up the walls, scarcely grew. At that time how I longed to know what those letters could mean!
When the first holiday after I had made the acquaintance of those letters came, and they took me again to our country-seat, one after another I spelled out the ancient letters of the inscription on that mysterious little house, and pieced them together in my mind. But I could not arrive at their meaning; for they were written in some foreign tongue.
Many, many times I wrote