im; he felt
stupid, heavy, half blind; his father pushed him some bread, and he ate
it by sheer instinct, as a lost animal will do. The cart jogged on, the
stars shone, the great church vanished in the gloom of night.

As they went through the city toward the river-side and the homeward way
not a single word did his father, who was a silent man at all times,
address to him. Only once as they passed the bridge, "Son," he asked,
"did you run away truly thinking to please God and help the poor?"

"Truly I did," answered Findelkind with a sob in his throat.

"Then thou wert an ass," said his father. "Didst never think of thy
mother's love and of my toil? Look at home."

Findelkind was mute. The drive was very long, backward by the same way,
with the river shining in the moonlight and the mountains half covered
with the clouds.

It was ten by the bells of Zirl when they came once more under the
solemn shadow of grave Martinswand. There were lights moving about the
house, his brothers and sisters were still up, his mother ran out into
the road, weeping and laughing with fear and joy.

Findelkind himself said nothing. He hung his head. They were too fond of
him to scold him or to jeer at him: they made him go quickly to his bed,
and his mother made him a warm milk-posset and kissed him. "We will
punish thee to-morrow, naughty and cruel one," said his parent. "But
thou art punished enough already, for in thy place little Stefan had the
sheep, and he has lost Katte's lambs, the beautiful twin lambs! I dare
not tell thy father to-night. Dost hear the poor thing mourn? Do not go
afield for thy duty again."

A pang went through the heart of Findelkind, as if a knife had pierced
it. He loved Katte better than almost any other living thing, and she
was bleating under his window motherless and alone. They were such
beautiful lambs too!--lambs that his father had promised should never be
killed, but be reared to swell the flock.

Findelkind cowered down in his bed and felt wretched beyond all
wretchedness. He had been brought back, his wallet was empty, and
Katte's lambs were lost. He could not sleep. His pulses were beating
like so many steam-hammers: he felt as if his body were all one great
throbbing heart. His brothers, who lay in the same chamber with him,
were sound asleep: very soon his father and mother also, on the other
side of the wall. Findelkind was alone, wide awake, watching the big
white moon sail past his litt