stood cherry trees with fallen blossoms. In the distance one could see the farmhouse, a one-story rambling structure. It was already growing quite dark; I was a late
guest; if the man on the wall had lied to me in any way, I might find myself in an unpleasant situation. On my way to the house I met no one, but when a few steps
away from the house I saw, in the room into which the open door gave, two tall old people side by side, a man and wife their faces towards thc door, eating some sort of
porridge out of a bowl. I could not make anything out very clearly in the darkness but now and then something on the man’s coat sparkled like gold, it was probably his
buttons or perhaps his watch chain.
I greeted them and then said, not crossing the threshold for the moment: “I happened to be looking in the village for a place to spend the night when a young man sitting
on your garden wall told me it was possible to rent a room for the night here on the farm.” The two old people had put their spoons into the porridge, leaned back on
their bench, and looked at me in silence. There was none too great hospitality in their demeanor. I therefore added, “I hope the information given me was correct and
that I haven’t needlessly disturbed you.” I said this very loudly, for they might perhaps have been hard of hearing.
“Come nearer,” said the man after a little pause.
I obeyed him only because he was so old, otherwise I should naturally have had to insist that he give a direct answer to my direct question. At any rate, as I entered I
said, “If putting me up causes you even the slightest difficulty, feel free to tell me so; I don’t absolutely insist on it. I can go to the inn, it wouldn’t matter to me at all.”
“He talks so much,” the woman said in a low voice.
It could only have been intended as an insult, thus it was with insults that they met my courtesy; yet she was an old woman, I could not say anything in my defense. And
my very defenselessness was perhaps the reason why this remark to which I dared not retort had so much greater an effect on me than it deserved. I felt there was
some justification for a reproach of some sort, not because I had talked too much, for as a matter of fact I had said only what was absolutely necessary, but because of
other reasons that touched my existence very closely. I said nothing further, insisted on no reply, saw a bench in a dark corner near by, walked over, and sat down.
The old couple resumed their eating, a girl came in from the next room and placed a lighted candle on the table. Now one saw even less than before, everything merged
in the darkness, only the tiny flame flickered above the slightly bowed heads of the two old people. Several children came running in from the garden, one fell headlong
and cried, the others stopped running and now stood dispersed about the room; the old man said, “Go to sleep, children.”
They gathered in a group at once, the one who had been crying was only sobbing now, one boy near me plucked at my coat as if he meant that I was to come along;
since I wanted to go to sleep too, I got up and, adult though I was, went silently from the room in the midst of the children as they loudly chorused good night. The
friendly little boy took me by the hand and made it easier for me to find my way in the dark. Very soon we came to a ladder, climbed up it, and were in the attic.
Through a small open skylight in the roof one could just then see the thin crescent of the moon; it was delightful to step under the skylight—my head almost reached up
to it—and to breathe the mild yet cool air. Straw was piled on the floor against one wall; there was enough room for me to sleep too. The children—there were two