Chapter VI: A Terrible Deed

THE weather Sunday was very fair and the garden lay peaceful and quiet in the sunlight. Nothing could be heard except the occasional thump of a falling apple, which had begun to ripen. The parents had gone to church with Paula and Miss Hanenwinkel and Jul and Hun sat peacefully before a great bowl of hazelnuts, discussing the different ways in which the nutcracker could open nuts. Willi and Lili, after the instructive experience of the day before, had come back to their ark with the wooden men and ladies and sat in the schoolroom where they were allowed to spread their toys over the large table. Rolf had run to a lonely little summerhouse in a distant corner of the garden in order to be undisturbed at different studies he was interested in.

When the deluge, which had to proceed this time without any water, had lasted a long time, and the dove had returned with the olive branch, Lili grew tired of the game and cast about for something new.

"Come down stairs, Willi," she proposed. "Let's look at Rolf's bow and arrow. He put it in the hall yesterday."

Willi, quite ready for a change of occupation, hastened downstairs after his twin sister, who knew the exact spot where Rolf had put the bow and the quiver full of feathered arrows.

"It must be great fun to shoot with it," said Lili. "I watched Rolf doing it. You pull the string back and lay the arrow on it; then you let go of the string and the arrow flies away. Let's try it, Willi."

"But we are not allowed to do it. Don't you remember papa saying we mustn't?" answered Willi.

"I don't actually mean to shoot. We'll just try a little how it works," suggested Lili.

This tempted Willi very much.

"But where shall we try it? There is too little room in the hall," he said.

"Of course not here; I know a good place, for it in the garden," she cried, running out with the arrow towards an open space near, the hedge. Willi eagerly followed with the bow.

"Here is a good place," said Lili, "let's both try it together."

Willi stuck the bow into the ground and both pulled the string back as hard as they could. When they succeeded in tightening the string, Lili jubilated loudly.

"Now lift up the bow," she directed her brother, "put on the arrow like that and pull this thing here back. You'll see what fun it is! Try it, Willi."

The boy pulled hard, and the arrow went whirring through the hedge. That same moment, they heard a cry of pain in the little garden beyond. Then everything was still.

The children looked at each other perplexed.

"Do you think it was a little rabbit that made the noise?" asked Willi, frightened.

"Do you think it was a chicken?" asked Lili, with a very bad conscience.

Both hoped sincerely they had heard wrongly when it sounded like a child's cry, and that they had only hurt a little animal. They knew they had been very disobedient in handling the weapon, and without saying a word, they carried the bow back to its place.

Here a new dread took hold of them. What would happen if Rolf discovered an arrow was missing?

Just then they heard the others coming back from church. This prevented them from going out and hunting for the missing arrow, which would give them away at once. Rolf, of course, would not know they had shot, but he might ask them. They felt very helpless and entangled by their disobedience. Besides, it seemed quite impossible ever to admit the truth, if somebody asked them for the arrow.

In silence and greatly oppressed by a feeling of guilt, Willi and Lili slipped back to the schoolroom and remained there without making a sound till they were called to dinner. They sat down quietly on their chairs without any joyful expectation of the coming meal. They never raised their eyes and swallowed hard at their soup as if it contained large gravel stones. Whenever the father accosted them, they did not raise their eyes, and their answers were scarcely audible.

"What is the matter again with those two?" the father asked, quite convinced that their contrition was not due to the incident of the day before: the repentance of the twins never lasted so long as that.

He received no answer, as they sat motionless, staring at their plates. The mother anxiously shook her head, while Hun, who guessed at once that something dreadful must have happened, kept a watchful eye on the pair.

The fine pudding with the sauce appeared and each got a nice big helping. Suddenly the father jumped up from his seat. "What is the matter? Can someone over there be ill? I just saw the doctor running in there rapidly as if someone were in great danger."

"I know of no sick people," said the mother. "Mrs. Kurd has rented her rooms to strangers. Perhaps one of them is ill."

First the twins blushed scarlet, then they grew white from fear as an inner voice repeated to them insistently: "Now you'll be found out, now you'll be found out!" They were so petrified that they could not move their limbs and found themselves obliged to leave the tempting pudding with the raisins untouched.

Even Hun, known as the most indefatigable eater of puddings, left his portion behind, for suddenly, leaping from his seat, he cried in terrible agitation, "Mamma, papa, come! Everything will fall to pieces now!" And nearly pulling Jul bodily from his chair, he flew towards the door. He could still be heard shrieking insanely outside, "Come, come! Everything will go to pieces. Jul told me so."

"What evil spirit has come into the children!" inquired the father, amazed. "The twins are acting as if they were screwed to a torture bench, and Hun has completely lost his senses."

Suddenly realizing what had caused Hun's panic, Jul burst into a gale of laughter. The small boy, seeing the twins so frightened and grim themselves, felt sure the pair had begun their fearful work of destruction. In a few moments, the house would crash down over the assembled family, he was quite sure. Under renewed outbursts of laughter, Jul explained what Hun's insane cries signified and even the mother was quite unable to tempt the boy into the room again with soothing words. He danced up and down before the house and violently implored everybody to come outside. At last, his father ordered the door to be shut, so the meal could proceed in quiet. Afterwards, when the family went into the garden, little Hun approached as soon as he saw them all in safety under the apple tree. Then he said, sighing, "If only somebody would fetch me out my pudding before the house falls down!"

The mother drew the little boy up to her, and explained how very foolish both Jul and he had been, the big boy to invent such nonsense, and the other to believe it. She told him to think a little and see how impossible it would be for two small people like Willi and Lili to tear down a large house built of stone; but it took quite a while to remove the fixed idea from the boy's brain.

Dora had been standing at the hedge waiting for the children to come to the garden when the twins approached. She watched their sport with much suspense, and then the arrow happened to fly straight into her bare arm. The pain was so great that she moaned aloud. Fortunately the arrow had not penetrated far enough to remain fixed in her flesh, and had fallen down at once. But such streams of blood poured from her arm over her hand and dress that Dora, in her fright, forgot her suffering. She could not help thinking how terribly Aunt Ninette would worry at her accident. In her anxiety, she sought for some means to conceal the matter and pulling out her handkerchief, she wrapped it firmly round the wound. Next, she ran to the fountain in front of the house, and began to wash off the stains. But the blood immediately soaked through the bandage, and Dora was stained with blood.

That moment, her aunt called her name from upstairs and Dora had to go. Trembling, she went reluctantly upstairs to her aunt, holding her bandaged arm stretched out in front, because the blood was simply dripping from it. The light Sunday frock was spotted with blood, and streaks were on the child's cheeks and forehead, because in trying to wipe it off, Dora had soiled herself everywhere.

"For mercy's sake!" shrieked the aunt at this appalling sight. "Dora, what is the matter with you? Tell me! Did you fall? How dreadful you look! Your cheeks look as white as chalk under the bloodstains! Dora, for heaven's sake, speak!"

Dora had several times been on the point of speaking, but had not got the chance. She answered timidly at last: "It was an arrow."

A storm of worse complaints than Dora had ever heard broke forth now. Wringing her hands and running up and down the room, the aunt exclaimed, "An arrow, an arrow! You were shot! And in the arm! You'll be lame for life now! Your arm will stay stiff and you'll be a cripple forever! You won't be able to sew any more, no, you won't be able to do anything at all! You will have to live in poverty the rest of your life! We'll all suffer most dreadfully! How could such a misfortune break in upon us? How can we go on living now? What on earth shall we do if you become lame?"

"But, Aunt Ninette," Dora said, between her sobs, "perhaps it won't be so terrible. Don't you remember what papa used to say:"

"'Yet God keeps watch above us
And doeth all things well.'"

"Ah, yes, that is true, but if you are crippled, you are crippled," wailed the aunt anew. "It is enough to drive one to despair. But come here! No, go now. Better come to the water here! But where is Mrs. Kurd? We must send for the doctor at once."

Dora went to her wash basin, while the aunt ran to Mrs. Kurd and urged her to send for the physician without a moment's delay. One could not tell what danger there might be in such an injury.

The doctor came as soon as he was able, examined the wound, stopped the blood and made a tight bandage without saying a word, though Aunt Ninette had several times tried hard to bring him to some declaration. Taking his hat, he was soon at the door.

"But, doctor, won't you tell me?" said Aunt Ninette, accompanying him further, "Tell me, doctor, will her arm remain lame? Lame for life?"

"Let us hope not! I'll come again tomorrow," was the answer, after which the physician was gone.

"'Let us hope not,'" repeated Aunt Ninette, in a despairing voice. "With a doctor that means yes. Oh, what will become of us? What shall we do? We can never pull through now."

The aunt never stopped wailing the entire day.

When the mother that night came to Willi's bed to say his prayers with him she did not find him sitting happily on his bed as usual, eager to detain her for a long talk. He was crouched together and did not look up at her when she sat down beside him. Nor did he speak.

"Willi, what is the matter?" asked the mother. "Something is troubling you. Did you do something wicked?"

Willi gave forth an incomprehensible sound, which was neither yes nor no.

"Come, say your evening song, Willi. Maybe that will open your heart," said the mother again.

Willi began:

"The moon is now ascending,
The golden stars are lending
Their beauty to the night."

But he prayed mechanically, constantly listening to every sound outside. He also gazed at the door, as if something dreadful might enter at any moment. From his restless glances, one could see that he was suffering from some inner terror. When he came to the end of his song:

"Oh, take us in Thy keeping,
Dear Lord, while we are sleeping,
And watch o'er those in pain."

Willi burst into violent sobs, and tightly clinging to his mother, cried out, "The child won't ever be able to sleep again, and God will punish us frightfully."

"What do you mean, Willi?" asked the mother gently. "Come, tell me what has happened. I have known all day you must have been naughty. What was it?"

"We have—we have—perhaps we shot a child dead," was heard at last.

"Willi, what are you saying?" cried the mother, frightened, for she immediately remembered the doctor's hurried appearance at her neighbor's cottage. "But that isn't possible. Explain to me what happened."

Willi related from the beginning what Lili and he had done, how they had heard the moan, after which they had run away. They were so frightened now, they would rather die at once, he said, than live any longer in such dread.

"Now you see, Willi, what comes from disobedience," said the mother, sternly. "You thought it wasn't very bad for you to play a little with the bow and arrow, but your father knew very well what danger there might be in it. That is why he forbade you to use it. We can't tell yet what terrible thing has happened through your disobedience. Therefore, we will earnestly implore God to make only good come out of your wicked action."

The mother began to say a prayer which Willi continued himself. He had never in his life prayed as fervently as he did at that anxious moment. He could hardly stop, because he felt such intense relief in praying, and it was wonderful to lay his trouble in God's hands. He earnestly begged His forgiveness and His assistance. Willi experienced great happiness in being able to look up at his mother again and he said good-night with a lighter heart.

In the room opposite, Lili was waiting for her mother. As the latter stepped up to her little one's bed, she said seriously, "Will you say your prayers, Lili?"

Lili began, then stopped. Once more she began and stopped abruptly. Dreadfully uneasy, she said now, "Mamma, I can't pray. God is angry with me."

"What did you do, Lili? What makes you so sure God is angry with you?"

Lili remained silent, and pulled her sheet to and fro, for she was an obstinate little person.

"If our God is not satisfied with you, I am not, either. Now I must go. Sleep well, if you can," said the mother, turning to leave the room.

"Mamma!" shrieked Lili, "Don't go! I'll tell you everything."

The mother turned around.

"We shot with the bow, though we were not allowed to do it. And we hit something that cried out. Then we were awfully frightened and ran away. Afterwards, we were still more scared and we can't be happy any more."

"Of course you can't be happy now," agreed the mother. "Just think, Lili! Because of your disobedience, a poor child over there has to suffer dreadful pain. She may even be here without her mother, for she is a stranger. She is probably crying all night in the strange house."

"I want to go over to the child and stay with it," Lili began pitifully crying. "I can't sleep, mamma, I am so scared."

"You see, Lili, that is the way we always feel when we have done wrong. I'll go to the poor child, and you must pray to God for an obedient heart, and beg Him to keep bitter suffering away from the innocent child you wounded."

Lili obeyed, and was glad she could pray again. After confessing her guilt, she did not feel as if God were angry with her any more, and she begged Him from the bottom of her heart to make her good and obedient and to heal the poor hurt neighbor.

Immediately afterwards, the mother sent Trine to Mrs. Kurd in order to find out if a child had been really shot, how it all had happened, and if the doctor had been brought for that reason.

Mrs. Kurd told Trine in detail how the arrow had flown through the hedge and into Dora's arm. She also repeated the doctor's words when asked about the dreadful consequences that might result from the accident. He had promised to return the next day.

Trine carefully told her mistress everything she had learned, and Mrs. Birkenfeld was glad to find the wound had not immediately endangered the child's life. She was especially relieved that the child's eye had not been struck, which possibility had troubled her the most.