no one
dared urge him to remain.

The four-horse wagon drove up the meadow. Landolin pushed his way up to
it, and said, "Joergli, I will go home with you. Take me along."

"Give my greetings to your wife," said Joergli, turning away from him.
He let himself be helped into the wagon, and then drove away. The
wheels were hardly heard on the meadow, and the people on both sides
saluted reverently, as they made way for him.

"How glad I should have been, if I could have sat in the wagon beside
him!" thought Landolin.

No one ever prayed--no one ever offered to an angel,--to a saint,--more
childlike petitions than these--"Take me with you; deliver me from this
misery,"--which had just passed Landolin's lips. But in these days the
best are no longer good, and have no pity.

When Joergli had gone the merriment began anew. They invited one another
to drink, and new groups were soon formed. Only Landolin was not
invited. He stood alone. Stop! Landolin struck his hand on his pocket,
and the money jingled. With that a man can call a comrade who will talk
with him better than any one else, and make him forget his cares.

He turned away from the meadow, and went to the city side of the Sword
Inn. There were no guests there to-day. An old servant brought him
wine. He drank alone, and had his glass refilled again and again.

As he still wanted every one to consider him of great importance, he
explained to the old waitress that he was going to a bathing place for
his health pretty soon. There they wouldn't let a man drink anything
but mineral water, and so he was going to take plenty of wine before he
went.

The old waitress said that was wise, and then returned to the
illustrated paper which she had brought down from the Casino.

It was quiet in the cool room. Only a canary bird in his cage twittered
awhile, and then began whistling half of the song "Who never on a spree
did go."

Landolin frequently looked up at the bird and smiled; until,
remembering Walderjoergli, he murmured, "Give my greeting to your wife."

CHAPTER LIII.

The mother slept in her chamber. Thoma sat at the table in the
living-room before a large, handsomely-bound book, filled with
beautiful pictures. It was an illustrated history of the last war,
which Anton had given her. Many book-marks lay between the leaves, at
the places where the battles in which Anton had taken part were
described. There were many soldiers