a distance; the light did not move, it must be
in some house; so they directed their steps towards it.

CHAPTER XIV.
LOST IN THE FOREST.

In the meanwhile Schilder-David's house seemed to be no longer a small
house, belonging to a small family. Every one went in and out, and many
left the door standing open, which Schilder-David's wife invariably
gently closed without saying one word; indeed she did not even object
to the neighbours for forgetting to knock off the snow from their feet,
and the floor of the room was like a small lake; she only placed fresh
cloths on the place and wrung them out into a pail, which she emptied
at the door.

Leegart drew the footstool, on which she placed her feet, closer to
her, to prevent any of the women seated round the table having any
share of it; for Leegart was not at all accustomed to sit in a damp
room, more especially in such a thoroughfare as Schilder-David's room
was turned into on this particular day.

David's wife always kept a fierce fire in the stove--the heat was
positively stifling; but Leegart had the art of keeping a whole
audience awake, and herself into the bargain.

While all the community were rushing about in the night and in the
snow, on rocks and in ravines, and the whole village in a state of
excitement, there were only two objects that remained steady and
stationary and kept time together--these were the clock on the church
tower, and Leegart beside her huge pincushion.

Martina had left the room along with the men, but several women
remained there. They complained loudly that their husbands were so rash
as to expose their lives to danger, for the sake of one single child,
perhaps only to cause their own children to suffer want and misery.
Leegart, however, while waxing her thread, said, "Indeed it is very
dreadful to lose your way in the forest. I can well tell you about it,
for it happened to me once in my life, but I found that once quite
enough. For God's sake, never, never be tempted to take a near cut
through the wood, unless you are thoroughly acquainted with every
corner of it. A short cut is the Devil's cut. Am I right or not? It
takes a very short cut to go to the Devil. I remember it as if it were
only yesterday; and who knows whether poor Joseph may not have done the
very same thing. I went through that very forest, and the hatter met
the boy at the large beech tree, which I als