It was plain and clear to Anton that he could not give a full account of the occurrence. And when he was called before the court, he gave his testimony strictly in accordance with the truth; for that the stone had not hit Vetturi, he had only heard from Landolin, as he stood at the spring.
He wanted to go to Thoma, after the trial, and tell her this; but she had thrust him from her so unmercifully and unlovingly that he could not humble himself again.
Does she not love him? Did she never love him? The perfume of the lily-of-the-valley, which was just beginning to bloom up on the mountain, reminded him of a blissful hour.
Anton had gone down from the mountain to the trial; and after his meeting with Cushion-Kate, troubled thoughts filled his mind as he went on his way home. He said to himself that he would no longer hide in the mountain-forest; it was nothing but a cowardly flight. As he acknowledged this, the medal of honor on his breast trembled. Does Anton Armbruster fly from anything? He looked around with a fearless courage. He was himself again.
"How many years did he get?" asked his father when he reached home. Anton had to tell him that Landolin was fully acquitted.
The calm, thoughtful miller struck his fist on the table and exclaimed: "Well, that is----." He suddenly broke off, went to the window, and looked out. He did not wish to have a second dispute with his son; and Anton's composed manner seemed to him to say that he rejoiced in the verdict, and built new hopes upon it.
"Father, I am going to stay at home now," said Anton.
"That is right," answered his father, without turning round, "and you had better go to the river. We must send off a raft to-day."
"Father, have you nothing to say about the acquittal?"
"Much, father--it makes very much difference."
"Well, then, I will tell you. It would have been better for the cause of justice, and for the hot-tempered Landolin himself, if he had been punished for a few years. But, mark my words, he must now suffer much more for his crime. He needs now to be acquitted by every one he meets. If he had submitted to punishment he would be better off. He would have paid his debt to justice, and everything would go on smoothly and evenly. In two years he would regain his civil rights and his standing in the community. It was only a misstep. But how is it now? And I believe Landolin is not tough enough--how shall I say it--he is not man enough to blot out the sense of his guilt from his own mind, and from other people's. But, Anton, let this be the last time we dispute about him. I don't deny that I have no place in my heart for him; but we two need not, on that account, live in discord. It is time for you to go now."