The infuriated peasants thrust their faces into Lorchen’s and bawled at her. One of them made as though to box her ears, but Lorchen’s lover seized him by the scruff of the neck and they jostled each other and were on the point of coming to blows. An old man said to Lorchen:
“If we are condemned, you will be too.”
“I shall be too,” she said, “I am not so cowardly as you.”
And she burst out again.
They did not know what to do. They turned to her father:
“Can’t you make her be silent?”
The old man had understood that it was not wise to push Lorchen too far. He signed to them to be calm. Silence came. Lorchen went on talking alone; then as she found no response, like a fire without fuel, she stopped. After a moment her father coughed and said:
“Well, then, what do you want? You don’t want to ruin us.”
She said:
“I want him to be saved.”
They began to think. Christophe had not moved from where he sat; he was stiff and proud and seemed not to understand that they were discussing him; but he was touched by Lorchen’s intervention. Lorchen seemed not to be aware of his presence; she was leaning against the table by which he was sitting, and glaring defiantly at the peasants, who were smoking and looking down at the ground. At last her father chewed his pipe for a little and said:
“Whether we say anything or not—if he stays he is done for. The sergeant major recognized him; he won’t spare him. There is only one thing for him to do—to get away at once to the other side of the frontier.”
He had come to the conclusion it would be better for them all if Christophe escaped; in that way he would admit his guilt, and when he was no longer there to defend himself it would not be difficult to put upon him the burden of the affair. The others agreed. They understood each other perfectly.—Now that they had come to a decision they were all in a hurry for Christophe to go. Without being in the least embarrassed by what they had been saying a moment before they came up to him and pretended to be deeply interested in his welfare.
“There is not a moment to lose, sir,” said Lorchen’s father. “They will come back. Half an hour to go to the fortress. Half an hour to come back. … There is only just time to slip away.”
Christophe had risen. He too had been thinking. He knew that if he stayed he was lost. But to go, to go without seeing his mother? … No. It was impossible. He said that he would first go back to the town and would still have time to go during the night and cross the frontier. But they protested loudly. They had barred the door just before to prevent his going; now they wanted to prevent his not going. If he went back to the town he was certain to be caught; they would know at the fortress before he got there; they would await him at home.—He insisted. Lorchen had understood him:
“You want to see your mother? … I will go instead of you.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
“Really! You will do that?”
“I will go.”
She took her shawl and put it round her head.
“Write a letter. I will take it to her. Come with me. I will give you some ink.”
She took him into the inner room. At the door she turned, and addressing her lover:
“And do you get ready,” she said. “You must take him. You must not leave him until you have seen him over the frontier.”
He was as eager as anybody to see Christophe over into France and farther if possible.
Lorchen went into the next room with Christophe. He was still hesitating. He was torn by grief at the thought that he would not be able to embrace his mother. When would he see her again? She was so old, so worn out, so lonely! This fresh blow would be too much for her. What would become of her without him? … But what would become of him if he stayed and were condemned and put in prison for years? Would not that even more certainly mean destitution and misery for her? If he were free, though far away, he could always help her, or she could come to him.—He had not time to see clearly in his mind. Lorchen took his hands—she stood near him and looked at him; their faces were almost touching; she threw her arms round his neck and kissed his mouth:
“Quick! Quick!” she whispered, pointing to the table, He gave up trying to think. He sat down. She tore a sheet of squared paper with red lines from an account book.
He wrote:
“My Dear Mother: Forgive me. I am going to hurt you much. I cannot do otherwise. I have done nothing wrong. But now I must fly and leave the country. The girl who brings you this letter will tell you everything. I wanted to say goodbye to you. They will not let me. They say that I should be arrested. I am so unhappy that I have no will left. I am going over the frontier but I shall stay near it until you have written to me; the girl who brings you my letter will bring me your reply. Tell me what to do. I will do whatever you say. Do you want me to come back? Tell me to come back! I cannot bear the idea of leaving you alone. What will you do to live? Forgive
