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for a fool〃
〃One moment！〃 Sarelli murmured： 〃I will load them； they are more
useful loaded。〃
Harz leaned out of the window； his head was in a whirl。 'What on
earth is happening？' he thought。 'He's mador I am！ Confound him！
I'm not going to be killed！' He turned and went towards the table。
Sarelli's head was sunk on his arms； he was asleep。 Harz
methodically took up the pistols； and put them back into the drawer。
A sound made him turn his head； there stood a tall； strong young
woman in a loose gown caught together on her chest。 Her grey eyes
glanced from the painter to the bottles； from the bottles to the
pistol…case。 A simple reasoning； which struck Harz as comic。
〃It is often like this；〃 she said in the country patois； 〃der Herr
must not be frightened。〃
Lifting the motionless Sarelli as if he were a baby； she laid him on
a couch。
〃Ah！〃 she said； sitting down and resting her elbow on the table； 〃he
will not wake！〃
Harz bowed to her； her patient figure； in spite of its youth and
strength； seemed to him pathetic。 Taking up his knapsack； he went
out。
The smoke of cottages rose straight； wisps of mist were wandering
about the valley； and the songs of birds dropping like blessings。
All over the grass the spiders had spun a sea of threads that bent
and quivered to the pressure of the air； like fairy tight…ropes。
All that day he tramped。
Blacksmiths； tall stout men with knotted muscles； sleepy eyes； and
great fair beards； came out of their forges to stretch and wipe their
brows； and stare at him。
Teams of white oxen； waiting to be harnessed； lashed their tails
against their flanks； moving their heads slowly from side to side in
the heat。 Old women at chalet doors blinked and knitted。
The white houses； with gaping caves of storage under the roofs； the
red church spire； the clinking of hammers in the forges； the slow
stamping of oxen…all spoke of sleepy toil； without ideas or ambition。
Harz knew it all too well； like the earth's odour； it belonged to
him； as Sarelli had said。
Towards sunset coming to a copse of larches； he sat down to rest。 It
was very still； but for the tinkle of cowbells； and； from somewhere
in the distance； the sound of dropping logs。
Two barefooted little boys came from the wood； marching earnestly
along； and looking at Harz as if he were a monster。 Once past him；
they began to run。
'At their age；' he thought； 'I should have done the same。' A hundred
memories rushed into his mind。
He looked down at the village straggling belowwhite houses with
russet tiles and crowns of smoke； vineyards where the young leaves
were beginning to unfold； the red…capped spire； a thread of bubbling
stream； an old stone cross。 He had been fourteen years struggling up
from all this； and now just as he had breathing space； and the time
to give himself wholly to his workthis weakness was upon him！
Better； a thousand times； to give her up！
In a house or two lights began to wink； the scent of wood smoke
reached him； the distant chimes of bells； the burring of a stream。
IX
Next day his one thought was to get back to work。 He arrived at the
studio in the afternoon； and； laying in provisions； barricaded the
lower door。 For three days he did not go out； on the fourth day he
went to Villa Rubein。。。。
Schloss Runkelsteingrey； blind； strengthlessstill keeps the
valley。 The windows which once； like eyes； watched men and horses
creeping through the snow； braved the splutter of guns and the gleam
of torches； are now holes for the birds to nest in。 Tangled creepers
have spread to the very summits of the walls。 In the keep； instead
of grim men in armour； there is a wooden board recording the history
of the castle and instructing visitors on the subject of
refreshments。 Only at night； when the cold moon blanches everything；
the castle stands like the grim ghost of its old self； high above the
river。
After a long morning's sitting the girls had started forth with Harz
and Dawney to spend the afternoon at the ruin； Miss Naylor； kept at
home by headache； watched them depart with words of caution against
sunstroke； stinging nettles； and strange dogs。
Since the painter's return Christian and he had hardly spoken to each
other。 Below the battlement on which they sat； in a railed gallery
with little tables； Dawney and Greta were playing dominoes； two
soldiers drinking beer； and at the top of a flight of stairs the
Custodian's wife sewing at a garment。 Christian said suddenly： 〃I
thought we were friends。〃
〃Well； Fraulein Christian； aren't we？〃
〃You went away without a word； friends don't do that。〃
Harz bit his lips。
〃I don't think you care；〃 she went on with a sort of desperate haste；
〃whether you hurt people or not。 You have been here all this time
without even going to see your father and mother。〃
〃Do you think they would want to see me？〃
Christian looked up。
〃It's all been so soft for you；〃 he said bitterly； 〃you don't
understand。〃
He turned his head away； and then burst out： 〃I'm proud to come
straight from the soilI wouldn't have it otherwise； but they are of
'the people；' everything is narrow with themthey only understand
what they can see and touch。〃
〃I'm sorry I spoke like that；〃 said Christian softly； 〃you've never
told me about yourself。〃
There was something just a little cruel in the way the painter looked
at her； then seeming to feel compunction； he said quickly： 〃I always
hatedthe peasant lifeI wanted to get away into the world； I had a
feeling in hereI wantedI don't know what I wanted！ I did run
away at last to a house…painter at Meran。 The priest wrote me a
letter from my fatherthey threw me off； that's all。〃
Christian's eyes were very bright； her lips moved； like the lips of a
child listening to a story。
〃Go on；〃 she said。
〃I stayed at Meran two years； till I'd learnt all I could there； then
a brother of my mother's helped me to get to Vienna； I was lucky
enough to find work with a man who used to decorate churches。 We
went about the country together。 Once when he was ill I painted the
roof of a church entirely by myself； I lay on my back on the scaffold
boards all day for a weekI was proud of that roof。〃 He paused。
〃When did you begin painting pictures？〃
〃A friend asked me why I didn't try for the Academie。 That started
me going to the night schools； I worked every minuteI had to get my
living as well； of course； so I worked at night。
Then when the examination came； I thought I could do nothingit was
just as if I had never had a brush or pencil in my hand。 But the
second day a professor in passing me said； 'Good！ Quite good！' That
gave me courage。 I was sure I had failed though； but I was second
out of sixty。〃
Christian nodded。
〃To work in the schools after that I had to give up my business； of
cou