Reeds in the Wind E-Book

Gracia Deledda

• Herausgeber: neobooks
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Deutsch

Seitenzahl: 343

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

This novel is about the decline of a once respected and wealthy, now impoverished family in a remote area in the barren inland of northern Sardinia. We experience the uneventful, dreary everyday life in the modest, cramped life of three sisters, their servants and roommates in the village.

Leseprobe

Gracia Deledda

Reeds in the Wind

Dieses ebook wurde erstellt bei

Inhaltsverzeichnis

Titel

I.

II.

III.

IV.

V.

VI.

VII.

VIII.

IX.

X.

XI.

XII.

XIII.

XIV.

XV.

XVI.

XVII.

Impressum neobooks

I.

Reeds in the Wind

Grazia Deledda

All day Efix, the Pintor ladies' servant, had worked on the reinforcement of the meager dam which he himself had piled up along the river in the course of his hard work, on the edge of the small farm; and now, at nightfall, he watched his day's work from above, sitting in front of his hut, under the cover of the blue- green reeds that rose up on the white slope of the pigeon hill.

Quiet and peaceful, veined here and there by a shimmering water, the property rests in the twilight at his feet - this property that Efix regards more as his property than the property of his mistresses. Thirty years of hard work made him grow tightly together with it, and the two fig hedges that surround it on either side like two gray walls slowly winding down over the slope to the river seem to him like the boundaries of the world.

The servant deliberately did not look beyond her, since the land next to it had once belonged to his mistresses. Why go back to the past ? Pointless grief. No , think about the future and hope for heaven's help.

And the sky promised a good harvest this year, made the almond trees and peach bushes in the valley floor shine in abundant bloom; and this one, fringed by two white hills, with the blue-misty mountainsfar to the west and the shimmering sea to the east, was as if embedded in green and blue veils, beneath which the river murmured its soporific way.

But the days were already quite hot - almost too hot, and Efix thought worriedly of the thunderstorms that swell the unchecked river and come out of its banks and devastate everything around it. Hope, yes - but don't trust! Above all, be on the lookout like the reed on the slope, through which even at the slightest breeze a fearful whisper and whisper goes, as if to warn of impending danger.

That's why he had worked all day and now prayed to God while he waited for the night and woven a rush mat, so that he might bless his work. What good is a small dam if the Lord does not make it imperturbable like a rock with His will?

So seven rushes through a willow rod and seven prayers to the Lord God and to Our Lady there in the little church in the distance that plunges into the deep blue of the twilight, surrounded by peaceful huts, by an ancient village that has been abandoned for centuries. At this hour, when the moon bloomed like a big rose between the bushes on the hill and the milkweed smelled intoxicating on the river below, Efix's mistresses also said the evening blessing. Miss Esther, the eldest, certainly included him, the poor sinner, in her prayer; and that was enough to make him happy and reward for all his efforts.

Then a step in the distance suddenly made him look up. He thought he recognized him; it was a quick, light-hearted step, as if an angel were hurrying through the country to proclaim happy and sad tales. The will of the Lord be done forever; it is he who sends good and bad news! But his heart began to pound loudly, and the rushes, which glittered silver like jets of water in the moonlight, trembled in his black, cracked fingers.

Now the step could no longer be heard. Still, Efix sat motionless and waited.

The moon rose higher and higher, and the voices of the evening announced to the old man that his day's work was over: the muffled call of the cuckoo, the chirping of the young crickets, a plaintive cry of birds; the sigh of the reeds and the ever lighter song of the river; a mysterious whispering and breathing that seemed to come from within the earth itself. Yes, man's daily work was now over; instead the gnomes, the elves and the restless souls of the dead awoke to ghostly life. The ghosts of the old knights came down from the castle ruins above the village of Galte to the left in the valley and hunted for boars and foxes on the banks of the river; their weapons flashed through the low alder brush, and the hoarse barking of dogs in the distance indicated that they were trotting by.

Especially on bright moonlit nights, this ghost haunt drives its mysterious nature on the hills and in the valleys, and then man should not disturb him through his presence, since the spirits also him left undisturbed during the day. Yes, then it's time to withdraw and fall asleep under the wing of the Guardian Angels.

Feix crossed himself and stood up. But he was still expecting someone . Nevertheless, he pushed forward the board that served as the door and leaned against it a large cross made of reed, which was supposed to prevent the evil spirits and the temptations of the devil from entering the hut.

The moonlight fell through the cracks into the narrow, low room, which of course seemed big enough for him, which was small and thin like a young lad. Of the cone-shaped reed and rush roof because s covered s rohgemauerten walls and had in the middle a hole for removal of smoke, consecrated palm and olive branches, a colorful wax floor, a sickle hanging from cords strung onions and dried herbs tufts down to Protection against the werewolf and a bag of barley to protect against the panas , the erring souls of women who died in childbed . With every breeze, all these things moved, and the cobwebs glittered in the moonlight. The clay jug with the large handles lay on the floor, and next to it lay the overturned kettle.

Efix shook up the straw sack but did not lie down. Again and again he thought he heard the light, swinging step . Surely someone was approaching there , and suddenly the dogs started beating the neighboring estates, and the whole country, which only recently fell asleep under the murmur of the nocturnal voicesseemed to be, echoed with muffled noises, woke up again, as it were.

Efix opened the door again. A dark figure climbed the hillside, on which the mini beans billowed silvery in the moonlight, and the servant, to whom even the human figures seemed uneasy at night, crossed again. Suddenly a well-known voice called him. It was the lively but slightly gasping voice of a young fellow who lived next to the Pintor ladies' house.

"Godfather Efix, Godfather Efix!"

'What's up, Zuannantò? Are my ladies well ? «

"I think so. They just tell you that you want to return to the village early tomorrow - they have to speak to you. It is probably because of a yellow letter that I saw in Fraulein Noemi's hand. Fraulein Noemi read it softly, and Fraulein Ruth, who looked like a nun in her white headscarf, was sweeping the yard, but leaned idly on the broomstick and listened . «

"A letter? Don't you know who it is from ? «

"No, I do not; I can not read. But my grandmother thinks it might be from young Mr. Giacinto, your mistresses' nephew . «

Yes, Efix felt that; sure it was; nevertheless he scratched his cheek thoughtfully, head bowed, hoping and afraid he was wrong.

The young fellow had sat down tired on the boulder in front of the hut, slowly untied his spiked shoes and asked if there was nothing to eat.

"I ran like a young deer, I was afraid of the evil spirits ..." 

Efix raised his weather-tanned, hard face and stared at the fellow with light blue, deep-set eyes surrounded by many wrinkles, and an almost childlike fear spoke from those brightly flashing eyes.

"Have they told you if I tomorrow morning or noc should return night hours today "

“I'm telling you tomorrow morning. And in the meantime, while you're in the village, I'm supposed to check on the estate here . «

The servant was used to obeying his mistresses and asked no further questions. He took an onion from the string, a piece of bread from the bag, and while the young fellow was eating his meager meal, half laughing, half crying from the pungent smell of the onion, they continued to chat. The most important personalities in the village went through their conversation: first came the pastor, then the pastor's sister, then Milese, who had married a daughter of the latter and had become the richest merchant in the village from an orange and pottery dealer. It was followed by Don Predu, the bailiff and cousin of Efix's mistresses. Don Predu was wealthy too, but not quite as rich as Milese. And finally came the usurer Kallina, also a rich, fabulously rich woman.

“Thieves tried to break into her the other day. In vain - she is safe! And the next morning she giggled in her courtyard and said: 'Let them break in, they'll be nothing but ashes and a few old nailsthink I am poor - poor as a church mouse. 'But my grandmother thinks that Aunt Kallina has a bag of gold hidden in the wall. "

But Efix didn't really care much about this gossip. With one hand under his armpit and the other under his cheek, he lay on his straw mattress and heard his heart beating, and the rustling of the reeds on the hillside sounded like the sigh of an evil spirit in his ear.

That yellow letter! Yellow, a bad color. Who knows what else would happen to his mistresses? It had been going on for twenty years: if an event really interrupted the monotonous life in the Pintor house, it was inevitably a misfortune.

The young fellow had also lay down, but was not in the mood to sleep yet.

“Father Efix, today my grandmother told you again that your mistresses were once as rich as Don Predu. Is it true or is it not true ? «

"Yes, it's true," sighed the servant. “But now is not the time to stir up those old stories. You prefer to sleep ! «

The young fellow yawned.

“But my grandmother thinks that since the death of Mrs. Maria, your old mistress, a curse has rested on your house. Is it true or is it not true ? «

"You should sleep, now is not the time ..." 

“Let me talk! And why did Miss Lia, your little mistress, flee? My grandmother thinks you know . You had Miss Liato help her escape, they would have taken her to the bridge, where she would have hidden until a wagon passed with which she drove to the sea. There - that is where she would have embarked. And Don Zame, her father and her master, sought and sought her until he died a terrible death. There - by the bridge, isn't it? Who do you think murdered him? My grandmother thinks you know . «

“Your grandmother is an old witch. Please let the dead rest, you two ! " Cried Efix; but his voice was hoarse, and the young fellow laughed boldly.

“Don't worry, that could hurt you, Father Efix. My grandmother says the Nöck killed Don Zame. Is it true or is it not true ? «

E fix did not answer. He closed his eyes and covered his ear, but the boy's voice boomed muffled through the darkness and it seemed to him that the past was speaking out of her.

Like the rays of the moon, they steal one after the other through the cracks and all crowd around him: Mrs. Maria Christina, beautiful and gentle as a saint; Don Zame, crab red and wild as the devil; the four daughters, whose pale faces have a cheerful glimmer like that of their mother, and in whose eyes a gloomy passion flames as in those of their father; the servants and the maidservants, the relatives and the friends, all of them who go in and out of the rich house, with the descendants of the old castle lords from the area. But then all of a sudden misfortune falls on them and they all run awayapart like clouds in the sky when the foehn storm whistles between them.

Mrs. Christina is now dead; the pale faces of the daughters lose more and more of their cheerfulness, and the gloomy glow in their eyes grows. It grows in proportion as Don Zame, after the death of his wife, more and more assumes the imperious nature of his ancestors and keeps the four girls prisoner in the house like maids, waiting for suitors who are worthy of them. And like maids they have to work, bake bread, spin flax, sew and cook, and keep their things in order; Above all, however, they must never look up to a man or think of someone who is not meant to be their bridegroom. But the years go by and no suitor appears. And the older his daughters get, the more relentlessly Don Zame sees that they live strictly in the spirit of their fathers. Woe to him if he sees them standing at the window and looking down the little alley behind the house, or if they go away without his permission! Then he beats her, heaped abuse on her and threatened the young fellows with death who walk through the alley twice in a row .

He hangs around the village all day or sits on the stone bench in front of the grocer's shop, which belongs to the pastor's sister. And when people see him sitting there they give a wide berth, so much do they fear his evil tongue. He studied Handel with the whole world and is neidis the other that he j ch on the have- ach M al when he enters a rich estate, says gleefully: "The gentlemen lawyers are you alreadystill bring it. ”But instead , the trials finally drive him away and one day a grave misfortune hits him, as if to punish his arrogance and his prejudices. Miss Lia, the third eldest of his daughters, disappears from her father's house one night and no one hears anything from her for a long time. A gloomy shadow weighs on the house; such a disgrace has never occurred in the village; a respectable and chaste girl like Miss Lia has never simply run away from home. Don Zame seems to be losing his mind; He wanders restlessly through the whole country, desperately searching the surroundings and the coast for his child; but no one can give him news of Lia. Finally she writes to her sisters, informing them that she is in good hands and happy to have shed her bonds. But the sisters do not forgive her, do not appreciate an answer. Don Zame is now even stricter than before. He sells the rest of his possessions, maltreats the servant, harasses all people with his contentiousness and still travels the country in the hope of catching his daughter again and dragging her home. And then one morning you find him dead on the country road, on the bridge behind the village. Apparently he died of a heart attack, because there is no trace of an act of violence to be seen on him, only a small green spot on the neck, under the neck.

In the village it is said first of all that Don Zame, as so often, sought a quarrel with someone else and was killed with a club; but with time falls silentthis rumor gives way to the certainty that he is broken-heartedly different because of his daughter's escape.

And while the sisters, dishonored by Lia's flight, cannot find a husband, one day she informs them of her marriage in a letter. Her husband is a cattle dealer whom she met by chance on her escape. They lived in Civitavecchia, in pretty good circumstances, and were about to have a child.

The sisters do not forgive her for this new aberration, this marriage with an upstart whom she has met under such sad circumstances, and again they do not honor her with an answer.

Soon after, Lia announced the birth of Giacinto. You send the nephew a baptism present, but do not write a word to the mother.

And so the years go by. Giacinto grows up, writes to his aunts every Easter and Christmas, and the aunts send him a present. Sometimes he writes that he is studying, sometimes that he wants to go to sea; and then he said that he had found a job; then he reports to them his father's death and then his mother's; and finally he expresses the wish to visit them and stay with them at all times if he finds work in the village. He did not like his small post at the customs office; he was humiliating and troublesome, spoiled his youth. And he longs for a hard work life, yes - but a simple life in the open air. Everyone advised him to go after theTo go to his mother's island and try his luck there with honest work.

The aunts start thinking back and forth; and the longer they think, the less they are able to come to an agreement.

"Does he want to work?" Says Fraulein Ruth, the most prudent one. "Where the village doesn't even feed the natives?"

Miss Esther, on the other hand, favors the nephew's plans, while Miss Noemi, the youngest, only smiles coldly and mockingly.

“Perhaps he's thinking of playing fine gentleman here. Let him come ! Then he can go to the river and fish fish ... " 

“But Noemi, dear sister, he writes himself that he would like to work. And he will certainly work too, start a little business like his father. "

“He should have started a little earlier. And our ancestors never traded cattle. "

“Other times, dear Noemi, by the way, the dealers are the real masters these days. Take a look at the Milese! He says: I am now the master of Galte! "

Noemi laughs, there is a malicious flash in her dark eyes, and Esther's laughter discourages Esther even more than any of the other sister's objections.

It's the same song every day. Giacinto's name echoes throughout the house; even when the sisters are silent, he lingers among them, as he has since the hour of his birth, and his strange shape fills the crumbling house with young life.

Efix did not remember ever taking part directly in the conversations of his mistresses. He did not dare to do it, especially because they did not consult him, but also because he did not want to burden his conscience; but he wished the young gentleman would come.

He loved him, had always loved him, almost like a son.

After Don Zame's death, he stayed with the three ladies to help them sort out the confused financial situation. The relatives did not care for her, rather despised and avoided her; they only knew about the household and didn't even know the small estate, the last remnant of their fathers' legacy.

I'll stay in her service for another year, Efix had said to himself, sympathetic to her helplessness. And one year had turned into twenty.

The three women lived on the produce of the estate that he worked. If the harvest was bad, Miss Esther said when the time came when she was to give him his wages - thirty silver guilders and a pair of boots - to the servant:

“In God's name, be patient a little longer; you shouldn't lose yours. "

And he tolerated himself, and his assets grew from year to year, so that Fraulein Esther promised, half jokingly and half seriously, to make him the sole heir of the property and house, although he was much older than all of them.

True , he was old and frail, but still a man, and his shadow gave the three women sufficient protection.

And now he was dreaming of a happier future for the three of them. At least dreamed that Noemi would find a husband. What if the yellow letter contained good news? What if he announced an inheritance? Or what if it were a marriage proposal for Miss Noemi? The Pintor ladies still had rich relatives in Sassari and Nuoro. Why shouldn't one of them marry Noemi? Even Don Predu could have written the yellow letter.

And with a m M al things change in the tired mind of the servant of the face; everything is now bathed in a bright, soft light; his noble mistresses grow young again; their dying generation is strengthened to new life, and everything around sprouts and blossoms like the valley in spring.

And he, the poor servant, has no choice but to retire to his old days on the little estate, spread out his straw sack and sleep in the master, while in the silence of the night the reeds lull the land into slumber with a monotonous rustle .

II.

At dawn he set out and left the young fellow to guard the estate.

The road went steadily uphill to the village, and he walked slowly along on her, because he had had malaria last year and had a great weakness in his legs. Every now and then he stopped and looked back at the manor, which lay bright green between the two fig hedges; and the hut up there, nestling black between the blue-green of the reeds and the white of the rock, seemed to him like a nest - a real bird's nest. Each M al when he left, he looked at her so tenderly half and half sad, just like a bird that pulls into the distance. It was almost as if he were leaving his better self there, the strength that loneliness, remoteness from the world gives; and as he climbed the road, through the blooming heather, past the rushes and the low alder scrub by the river , he felt like a pilgrim walking to a place with a small sack of hair on his shoulder and an elder stick in hand Striving towards repentance: the world.

But the will of the Lord be done forever! And suddenly the valley opened before his eyes, and the old castle ruins appeared on the top of a hill as if on a huge heap of rubble . From a black wall, a blue, empty window looks down like the eye of the past on the melancholy, reddish landscape glowing red in the glow of the rising sun, on the gently undulating, gray and yellow speckled plain, on the silver-green ribbon of the river, on the white Village, the long rolling heights and the blue-gold cloud of the Nuoreser Mountains in the distance.

Small and black, Efix steps into the radiant light. The oblique rays of the sun flood brilliantly over the land; every rush carries a silver thread, a bird's call rises from every milkweed bush; and there the green and white spotted cone of the Galteberg, furrowed by shadows and sunbeams, beckons, and at its foot rests the little village that seems to consist only of rubble: the remains of the old Roman city.

Long broken walls, collapsed houses without a roof, crumbling courtyards and overgrown gardens, huts that are still in good condition, but which seem almost sadder than all the rubble, line the steep streets paved in the middle with mighty sandstone blocks; Lumps of lava lie around, giving the impression that an earthquake has destroyed the old city and scattered the inhabitants to the wind; here and there a new house appears almost shyly in the desolate wasteland, and pomegranate and carob trees, a number of fig bushes and palm trees give the sad place a friendlier character.

But the higher Efix climbed, the more desolate and deserted it became around him, and to make matters worse, the remains of an old churchyard and the crumbling basilica loomed gloomily at the roadside, in the shadow of the mountain, between the dense brambles and milkweed to the sky. The roads were deserted, and the rocks on the hilltop shimmered like mortuary stones into the land.

Efix made in front of a large, to the old cemetery bordering gate stop. The two gates were almost the same; three weathered, grass-covered steps led up to them. But while the gate of the old churchyard was only covered by worm-eaten entablature, a stone arch arched over that of the Pintor ladies, and on the pillar a faded coat of arms was indicated: a knight's head with a helmet and an arm armed with a sword. The motto below was: Quis resistit hujas?

Efix strode through the wide, square courtyard, through which a wide gutter, like the pavement of sandstone blocks, ran, took the sack from his shoulders and looked around to see if one of his mistresses was in sight. The one-story house rose at the end of the courtyard, under the shelter of the mountain, which seemed to rest on him like a huge white and green piebald hood.

Three small doors yawned under a wooden veranda that ran around the whole house and to which a rotten staircase led up outside. A blackish rope knotted around the nails rammed into the bottom and top steps replaced the broken railing. The porch doors, pillars, and railings were neatly carved, but everything was in danger of collapsing, and it looked as if the black, weathered, worm-eaten wood would crumble to dust at the slightest breath of air .

A small, stout woman in black, with a white cloth around her dark, angular face, stepped out onto the veranda; she leaned over the railing,caught sight of the servant, and her black, almond-shaped eyes lit up with joy.

“Ah - Miss Ruth! Good morning, mistress! "

Fraulein Ruth came down the stairs briskly, with thick legs in dark blue stockings. She gave him a friendly smile and showed her snow-white teeth under her lip, which was shaded by a delicate fuzz.

'And Miss Esther? And Miss Noemi? "

“Esther went to mass, Noemi is getting up. Wonderful weather, Efix! And what about the estate ? «

“Good, good - thank God, very good . «

The kitchen also had a medieval touch: large, low, with a soot-blackened beam ceiling. A carved wooden bench ran along the wall on either side of the huge hearth; the green hilltop looked in through the grille of the window. On the bare, reddish-gray walls, the traces of the copper pans, which had gradually disappeared, could still be seen; and the rusted nails from which the saddles, armor and weapons once hung remained there as if to remember.

“Well, Miss Ruth ? " Asked Efix, while the mistress placed a small copper coffee pot on the fire. But she only turned her broad, dark, white-framed face towards him and blinked to indicate that he should be patient for a while.

"Get me a bucket of water until Noemi comes down!"

Efix took the bucket out from under the bench and opened it closed the door, but once more looked around shyly and inquiringly on the threshold and considered the swaying bucket thoughtfully.

'I suppose the letter was from Don Giacinto ? «

"The letter? It's a telegram ... " 

“Merciful God! Hasn't it happened to him ? «

“No, nothing at all. Go now ... " 

There was no point in asking any more questions before Miss Noemi came down; for although Fraulein Ruth was the eldest of the three sisters and kept the house keys - there wasn't much to keep safe any more - she never did anything of her own free will and rejected all responsibility.

He went towards the fountain, which looked like a gigantic megalithic grave raised in a corner of the courtyard and was bordered by mighty sandstone blocks on which gold lacquer and jasmine bloomed in old, broken pots. A branch of jasmine climbed the wall and peered over it, as if to see what was out there in the world.

How many memories aroused this gloomy, moss-covered corner with the light brown of the gold lacquer and the delicate green of the jasmine in the heart of the servant!

He thought he saw Miss Lia standing pale and thin as a rush on the veranda again, her eyes fixed in the distance, as if she too wanted to fathom what was out there in the world. He had her up there on the day of the escape, toosee standing motionless like a ferryman peering into the mysterious depths of the water .

How hard these memories are! As heavy as the full bucket of water that pulls down into the black well shaft.

But when Efix looked up again, he saw that the tall, slender woman who stepped lightly onto the balcony and hooked the cuffs of her black, finely pleated bodice was not Lia.

“Ah - Miss Noemi! Good day, mistress! Aren't you coming down ? «

With black, golden hair, which wrapped itself in two broad braids around her pale face, she leaned over the railing, thanked him with a fleeting glance from her black eyes, which were also golden under her long lashes, for his greeting, but spoke not a word and did not come down either.

She opened doors and windows - today was not a danger that a gust of wind slam and smash the windows, by the way, were missing for many years - and spread carefully a yellow blanket in the sun.

“Aren't you coming down, Miss Noemi ? " Repeated Efix, who was still at her up saw .

“Yes, yes, soon. «

But again she carefully smoothed the blanket and seemed to be gazing pensively at the landscape on the right and on the left, which lay spread out in wistful beauty before her: on the wide sand plain, broken by the glittering ribbon of the river, by rows of poplar trees, from low alders and reeds and milkweed to the gloomy basilica in the middle of the brambles, to the old churchyard, where the bones of the dead shimmered like white marguerites between the bright green of the overgrown grass, and to the defiant castle ruins on the hill in the distance .

The past still loomed over the area. But Noemi was not saddened by this; from early childhood she had been used to seeing the bones of the dead pale over there, which seemed to freeze in winter in the pale sun and on which dew glinted in spring. Nobody thought of taking them away; so why should she have thought about it?

Miss Esther, however, who comes slowly and withdrawn from the new church in the village, crosses herself when she comes to the old cemetery and says a prayer for the dead souls.

Esther never forgets anything and has an eye for everything. And so she notices, as she now enters the courtyard, that someone has drawn water from the well, and puts the bucket in its place; then she removes a stone from the gold lacquer pot, goes into the kitchen, greets Efix and asks him whether he has already got his coffee.

"Yes, yes - for a long time, mistress."

Meanwhile Noemi had come down with the telegram in hand. But she didn't make up her mind to read it out; it gave her almost a secret pleasure in teasing the servant's anxious curiosity about the torture.

"Esther," she said, and sat down on the bench by the stove, "why don't you take off your cloth?"

“This morning there is mass in the basilica, I'll be going again. So read aloud! "

Esther also sat on the bench, and Miss Ruth followed her example. And when the three sisters sat next to each other they looked strangely alike; only that they embodied three different ages: Noemi the youth, Esther the maturity and Ruth the old age - a sprightly, tranquil and cheerful age.

The servant had stepped before them and was waiting; but after Miss Noemi had unfolded the yellow paper, she stared at it, as if she could not decipher the words on it, and finally shook it angrily in her hand.

“Well, he telegraphed that he'll be here in a few days. That's all."

She raised her eyes and blushed when her stern gaze fell on Efix's face; the other two looked at him too.

"Do you understand? Just as if he were at home here. "

"What do you think of that?" Asked Miss Esther, pointing a finger through the crack in the cloth.

Efix shone all over the face; the many tiny wrinkles around his vivid, flashing eyes looked like rays, and he tried not to hide his joy.

"I'm just a poor servant, but I tell myself Heaven knows what he's doing."

"Thank God, finally a sensible word," said Miss Esther.

But Noemi was pale as death again. Indignant words surged from her lips, and although she knew how to control herself as always before the servant - she did not give much thought to his opinion - she replied:

“Heaven has nothing to do with that, and that is not what it is about. It is, "she added after a moment's hesitation," yes, it is a question of answering him succinctly that there is no room for him in our house. "

Then Efix spread his arms and bent his head back a little as if to say: Well, why are you asking me for advice then?

But Esther gave a sharp laugh, got up and angrily turned back the black corners of her handkerchief. “Then who should he go to? Perhaps to the pastor, like the strangers who cannot find shelter? "

"I would rather not answer him at all," suggested Miss Ruth, and took the telegram from Noemi's hand, which she was restlessly unfolding and folding over and over again . “If he comes anyway, that's fine. Then we can take him in like any stranger. Come in , bring good luck! ”She added, as if to greet a guest entering the door. "And when he's not doing well, it's still time to say a word."

But Esther smiled at her sister, who was the shyest and most indecisive of the three, leaned over to her and put her hand on her knees: “To chase him away, do you mean? Excellent, dear sister! And will you have the heart for it, Ruth? "

Efix thought about it. Suddenly he raised his head and put a pleading hand on his chest.

"I'll take care of that," he promised solemnly.

Then his eyes met Noemi's, and he, who was always afraid of these bright, cold, deep eyes, understood that the young mistress was taking his promise seriously.

But he didn't regret it. He had already taken on completely different responsibilities in his life.

He stayed in the village all day.

It is true that he was restless about the estate - although there was little to stand there at this time of year - but it seemed to him that a secret conflict was troubling his mistresses, and he did not intend to leave until he saw them unanimously.

Miss Esther tidied up the kitchen and then left to go to the basilica. Efix promised to comply soon; but when Fraulein Noemi went upstairs, he went back into the kitchen and quietly asked Fraulein Ruth, who was kneeling on the floor and kneading some dough on a low stool, for the telegram. She raised her head and pushed the cloth from her forehead with her flour-dusted fist.

"Did you hear?" She alluded to Noemi. “She always stays the same! They are dominated by pride ... " 

"Right," affirmed Efix pensively. “Who noblesWhat is in blood, it will remain so, Miss Ruth. They find an old coin on the floor, at first they think it is made of iron because it has turned black; but then rub it bare and you will see that it is made of pure gold ... Gold remains gold ... "  

Ruth realized that she did not need to excuse Noemi's reprehensible pride in front of Efix, and since she always readily agreed to the opinions of the others, her face brightened up again.

"Do you remember how proud my father was?" She said, and thrust her red, blue-veined hands back into the pale dough. “He spoke just like that. Surely he wouldn't even have allowed Giacinto to go ashore. What do you mean, Efix? "

"I? Well, I'm just a poor servant, but I think Don Giacinto would have gone ashore anyway. "

"You mean he's his mother's son," sighed Ruth, and the servant sighed softly too. Over and over again the shadow of the past enveloped her.

But the old man made a defensive gesture, as if to scare away this shadow, and while he watched with attentive eyes the movements of the red hands that were kneading, kneading and beating the white dough, he continued calmly:

“He's a good boy, and Heaven will help him. But you have to make sure that he doesn't get malaria. You should also buy a horse for him because the people there - on the mainlandare not used to walking. But let that be my concern. The most important thing is that the mistresses agree among themselves. "

“And aren't we? Did you hear us arguing? Wouldn't you prefer to go to mass now, Efix? "

Then he realized that she was saying goodbye to him and went into the courtyard. But he looked around to see if he could speak to Fraulein Noemi right away. Ah - there she's standing on the porch, pulling the covers in. Asking her down is probably pointless; no, he has to go up to her himself.

“Fraulein Noemi, may I ask you something? Are you really happy? "

Amazed, with the blanket under his arm, Noemi looked at him.

"About what?"

“Well, that Don Giacinto is coming. You'll see he's a good boy. "

"So? Where did you meet him? "

“You can tell from his letters. He'll definitely make a difference . You have to buy him a horse ... " 

"And the spurs too, of course ..." 

“The main thing is that the mistresses agree among themselves. Yes, that's the most important thing. "

She plucked a fiber from the ceiling and threw it into the courtyard; her face had darkened.

“When did we not agree? I think so far always. "

"Yes - but - it seems to me that you are not looking forward to Don Giacinto's arrival."

“Should I sing a song of joy? He's not a Messiah, ”she said, and disappeared into the door, through which one looked into a bright room with an old bed, an old clothes locker and a windowless window that looked out onto the green hillside.

Efix went down the stairs, plucked a little reddish gold lacquer blossom, held it between his hands folded behind his back, and went to the basilica.

The stillness and coolness of the towering mountain lay over all things. Only the chirping of thrushes in the blackberry bushes animated the area and mixed with the monotonous prayers of the women in the church. Efix came in on tiptoe, gold lacquer blossom in hand, and knelt behind the pulpit.

The basilica fell into disrepair from year to year; everything there was gray with damp and mold. Through the cracks in the wooden roof, the inclined rays of the sun shimmered silvery over the heads of the kneeling women, and the figures of saints, which stood out brownish against the black, cracked background of the pictures still adorning the walls, looked like these black and blue clad female figures, all of whom were pale yellowish faces had a sunken chest and a heavy body that was swollen from malaria. Her prayer, too, had a heavy, monotonous sound, as if from a great distance, as if from someone long lostSeemed to tremble over time . Now the priest in the black, white decorated choir robe turned slowly with his hands raised; a bundle of rays played around his pale head like that of a prophet. And if the little sacristan hadn't waved the silver, light-toned bell in the air now and then, as if to banish the ghost all around, Efix would have believed, despite the dazzling flood of light, despite the twittering of the birds, that he was attending a ghost mass. They are all still there, just as they were before: Don Zame, kneeling in his prayer chair, and a little to one side Fraulein Lia, who looks so pale in her black cloth, almost like the figure in the old painting over there, to which women occasionally to look up. It is the picture of the penitent Magdalena, which is supposed to be painted according to reality. Love and sadness, hope and repentance laugh and cry from their unfathomable eyes, play for their wicked mouth.