nvoluntarily stepped behind the wall by the door, so that she
would not see him. From there he continued to watch Cain.

Vincenza timidly came near, looked about to see if anyone was by, then,
before he was aware of her approach, she stepped up behind the boy, who
was so absorbed in his work.

"You never came near me all the morning," said Vincenza to Cain. She
had quite forgotten to bid him good morning. She was not usually a very
thoughtful girl, or apt to hang her head. But now she looked quiet and
serious.

"You?" said Cain, turning toward her. Then he didn't know what more to
say, and went on piling up the wood.

"I know why, already," said Vincenza. Leaning against the woodpile, she
looked at Cain. After a short pause she continued. "They have told us
what a strange name you have. So--that is why you don't come over any
more, isn't it?"

"I am going away--I am going very far away now," said Cain, but even as
he spoke the words, it seemed wholly impossible to him, that they could
be true.

Vincenza thought a moment. Then she came closer to him. "If you go, I
shall go too," said she.

He could not laugh at what she said, for all that it seemed so
incredible. Since he could not find a word to say, he stroked her hand,
which was resting on the woodpile.

Just then Simmen came out of the tavern door, with his face flushed,
and called out angrily to Vincenza: "Are you there again with the
smith's boy, you?" It was the first time that he had had anything to
say against the friendship of the two.

The girl turned around. Her little brown face wore an angry expression.
"I shall tell my father," said she to Cain as she went away. The boy
scarcely knew what she meant. But she walked slowly up to Simmen.

"Franz wants to go away," said she when she was close to him.

"So he ought," answered the host, crossly.

"Then I shall go with him," said Vincenza.

At that, the blood rushed once more to Simmen's face. Cain heard him
railing loudly at Vincenza, as he walked into the house behind her. His
angry voice could be heard across the yard for some time. Cain stood
and listened, with a log of wood in his hand. Over at the workshop,
Fausch left the doorway where he had been watching and went out of the
back door. He had no peace of mind left for his work.

Chapter IX

Simmen, the landlord, sent for Fausch to come to his little office,
which was near one of the guest rooms. It was a sm