e in your faith. But hush!"

The piano struck up in the next room. A portly, merry Catholic priest
sang with strong tenor voice; and presently the young wife of the
Protestant clergyman was persuaded to sing a duet with him.

Joyous songs, sung by sweet voices, floated out into the moonlit summer
evening, and all dissension and all misery seemed to be forgotten.

CHAPTER XXXIX.

It was a source of vexation to Landolin that the people of rank of the
Casino did not notice him; and as their wagon went slowly up the hill,
he said to his wife, with unaccustomed tenderness:

"We'll not concern ourselves at all about the world, but be happy in
having each other and being together again. Nobody cares for a man as
his own family does."

His wife looked at him in astonishment, and her careworn face shone in
the clear moonlight. She was not used to such affection from Landolin,
and she had never known that he felt any need of sympathy.

"Is Thoma ill?" he asked, after a little while.

"No, only frightened, and angry about Anton. She goes around for days
without speaking a word; but she works busily, and eats and drinks as
usual. To be sure, she doesn't sleep as she should. I made her sleep
with me; but she would not lie in your bed, and I had to give her
mine."

"Everything will come around all right now," said Landolin. For his
part, he thought it strange that his wife, contrary to her usual habit,
had so much to say; but he wanted to hear more, so he asked:

"Has the prize cow a bull calf?"

"Yes; coal black, with a white star on its forehead, and stout hoofs.
Didn't Peter tell you that we were going to raise it?"

As for Peter, who sat on the front seat driving, his sides shook. He
was evidently laughing.

Landolin, who had striven against the temptation, at last yielded, and
asked:

"How does Cushion-Kate get along?"

His wife did not answer, and Landolin repeated impatiently, "Don't you
hear me? Didn't you hear what I said? I asked how Cushion-Kate was
getting along."

"Don't scream so! You have changed very much."

"It's you, not I, that have changed. Why don't you give me an answer?"

"Because I have none to give. Last night Cushion-Kate was not at home.
Early this morning she came back, and lit a fire for the first time in
many days. She must have been at the grave yesterday, for the pastor
found her red kerchief there, and sent it to her. Since then she has
disap