Then he hopped the whole length of it back and forth on one foot, with his hands clasped over his eyes; and next he began to throw summersaults, both backward and forward, and threw twenty-seven.

The people murmured, and were deeply scandalised to see a priest do such worldly things; but he was not disturbed, and went on with his antics just the same. Finally he sprang lightly down and walked away, and passed up the road and around a corner and disappeared. Then that great pale, silent, solid crowd drew a deep breath, and looked into each others' faces as if they said, »Was it real? Did you see it, or was it only I – and was I dreaming?« Then they broke into a low murmur of talking, and fell apart in couples and moved toward their homes, still talking in that awed way with their faces close together and laying a hand on an arm and making other such gestures as people make when they have been deeply impressed by something.

We boys followed behind our fathers, and listened, catching all we could of what they said; and when they sat down in our house and continued their talk they still had us for company. They were in a sad mood, for it was certain, they said, that disaster for the village must follow this awful visitation of witches and devils.

»They have not ventured to lay their hands upon an anointed servant of God before,« said my father; »and how they could have dared it this time I cannot make out; for he wore his crucifix – isn't it so?«

»Yes,« said the others, »we saw it.«

»It is serious, friends, it is very serious. Always before, we had a protection. It has failed.«

The others shook, as with a sort of chill, and muttered those words over –

»It has failed.«

»God has forsaken us.«

»It is true,« said Seppi Wohlmeyer's father, »there is nowhere to look for help.«

»The people will realise this,« said Nikolaus's father the judge, »and despair will take away their courage and their energies. We have indeed fallen upon evil times.«

He sighed, and Wohlmeyer said in a troubled voice –

»The report of it will go about the country and our village will be shunned, as being under the displeasure of God. The Golden Stag will know hard times.«

»True, neighbor,« said my father, »all of us will suffer – all in repute, many in estate. And good God!«

»What is it!«

»That can come – to finish us!«

»Name it – um Gottes Willen!«

»The Interdict!«

It smote like a thunderclap, and they were like to swoon with the terror of it. Then the dread of this calamity roused their energies, and they stopped brooding and began to consider ways to avert it. They discussed this, that and the other way, knowing all the time that there was but one best way, yet all being afraid to mention it. But it had to come out at last: the witch-commission must summon the priest and put him on his trial, and somebody must go and call the commission's attention to its duty, for otherwise it would shirk its duty, naturally fearing to proceed against a priest, and they, like all the community, being hardly less afraid of this particular priest than of the strangely intrepid devil that was in him. Whoever pushed the commission to its work would be in trouble, for Father Adolf would know of it promptly through betrayal of the informer by the commission, and would mark that man.

They were in a trying position, now: if they moved in this matter and the priest escaped the stake, he would ruin them; if they kept silence, there was the possible interdict, a calamity of which they would get their share. They talked and talked till the afternoon was far spent, then confessed that at present they could arrive at no decision. So they parted sorrowfully, with oppressed hearts which were filled with bodings.

 

While they were saying their parting words I slipped out and set my course for Marget's house to see what was happening there. I met many people, but none of them greeted me. It ought to have been surprising, but it was not, for they were so distraught with fear and dread that they were not in their right minds, I think; they were white and haggard, and walked like persons in a dream, their eyes open but seeing nothing, their lips moving but uttering nothing, and worriedly clasping and unclasping their hands without knowing it.

At Marget's it was like a funeral. She and Wilhelm sat together on the sofa, but saying nothing, and not even holding hands. Both were steeped in gloom, and Marget's eyes were red from the crying she had been doing. She said –

»I have been begging him to go, and come no more, and so save himself alive. I cannot bear to be his murderer. This house is bewitched, and no inmate of it will escape the fire. But he will not go; and he will be lost with the rest.«

Wilhelm said he would not go; if there was danger for her, his place was by her and there he would remain. She said dear sweet things to him for that, and he said they made him very happy, but he could not change his mind. Then she began to cry again, and it was all so mournful that I wished I had stayed away. There was a knock, now, and Satan came in, fresh and cheery and beautiful, and brought that winy atmosphere of his and changed the whole thing. He never said a word about what had been happening, nor about the awful fears which were freezing the blood in the hearts of the community, but began to talk and rattle on about all manner of gay and pleasant things; and next about music – an artful stroke which cleared away the remnant of Marget's depression and brought her spirits and her interest broad awake. She had not heard any one talk so well and so knowingly on that subject before; and she was so uplifted by it and so charmed that what she was feeling lit up her face and came out in her words, and Wilhelm noticed it and did not look as pleased as he ought to have done. And next Satan branched off into poetry, and recited some, and did it well, and Marget was charmed again; and again Wilhelm was not as pleased as he ought to have been, and this time Marget noticed it and was remorseful, and said –

»Wilhelm writes poetry, and I think it is beautiful.«

Then she went on to tell about a poem he had written the day before, and she and Satan persuaded him to read it. He was greatly pleased and mollified, and not hard to persuade.