Schilder-David was at home,
dressed in his Sunday clothes, seated before his large Bible, carefully
reading its precious words--running his finger along the lines as a
guide--from where he had left off two evenings before. Schilder-David
lived out his life in his usual quiet fashion, constantly reading his
Bible from beginning to end. There had been a wonderful combination of
mercies for him, and all had turned out for the best.

At noon a messenger came into the village, and declared that there was
a corpse lying in the Forest Mill.

"The Roettmaennin!" exclaimed all.

"No! the Forest Miller himself; it seems he must have died last night,
but it was only discovered to-day. There is no doubt that he killed
himself by trying to drink as hard as Speidel-Roettmann, and I hear
nothing could be more horrible than to hear the Roettmaennin, who tried
to wake him at night to come to her aid, scolding and cursing. It was a
dead man she was raging at."

All shuddered, and certainly the death of the Forest Miller was much
deplored, but he ought to have died at some other time, for now people
spoke less of Joseph's rescue, and more of the Forest Miller's sudden
death.

No one was more horrorstruck by this sudden death than Leegart; it
showed that she did know more than other people: she can by her wishes,
wish the death of a man. She had incautiously wished that there should
be poison in all the spices he bought from the grocer, and in all the
wine from Roessler's Inn. A shudder of pleasure and awe crept through
her veins, that she should be endowed with such miraculous gifts. She
dared not venture to leave the house; every one must be well aware of
what she had done, and she sincerely regretted it; she had not really
intended the man's death. I will take good care, vowed she to herself,
never to do anything of the kind again; I wish nothing but good to the
whole world, and even to the Roettmaennin herself. At last she ventured
to go to Martina, and said privately to her in the attic: "I beg you
will, in a quiet way, take care that none of the women to whom I was
talking yesterday repeat what I wished with regard to the Forest
Miller. Men are apt to be vastly superstitious, and might at last
actually believe, that I knew more than other people; but I don't wish
to have this reputation." Leegart was only half pleased, when Martina
assured her that no one thought about the matter, and that the world
was not so silly as to belie