e little that he said had a surly
sound. He was just the same on the morning when he called Cain into the
workshop, and told him that he, himself, was going back to Waltheim.
Cain had listened eagerly, had then remonstrated, and when his father
gave him a harsh answer, he had at last kept silence, to think things
over. And now, days afterward, he was still thinking about it all.
First he would feel joyful, and then doubtful. That he, Cain, was to
stay at the hospice made him joyful, and yet he felt doubtful, because
he could not understand his father's sudden decision to leave the
place. But one thing was clear to him: If he were freed from his
father's presence, the talk about the disgraceful name his father had
given him would sooner die out, even if only gradually. He, Cain, if he
were alone, would have the courage to stay there, and bear it, if a
couple of servants, men or maids, should ridicule him for a time,
until--they got tired of it. But his father? What was coming over the
strange man? Was it not almost certain that he was making a sacrifice
for him, for Cain, by going away? Did he repent of the injury he
had formerly clone him? And was he--it often seemed so in little
things--was his father somewhat fond of him, of Cain?

[Illustration: FOREST MEADOWS]
Oskar Frenzel

The young man was able to think all this over quietly. Thus far, he had
felt neither love nor dislike for Fausch. In all his life, his father
had done too little for him to awaken the boy's love, and yet too much
to permit of his hatred. But the more he now thought and speculated
about Fausch, the clearer it became to him, that in the smith's deeper
self, there was something which, until now, he had neither known nor
understood, something which gave the boy food for thought, and made him
feel a sort of awe, as if Stephen were suddenly very far above him.

Meanwhile the time passed by. The day came when Fausch's goods and
chattels were all packed. The same wagon stood again before the door
that had brought the goods up to the smithy months before. It was now
loaded, and Katharine, a feeble old woman, took her place on a chest as
before. But today she could not keep her eyes dry, for Cain was staying
behind, her boy on whom she had leaned for many years with a feeling of
comfort.

Cain had already been living at the tavern for some days, and was
sharing a room with a young working man, and had nothing in the world
to complain of. The number o