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Updated: June 1, 2025
At this very moment his stubbornness almost got the upper hand of him, and as Cain, who had carried the milk to the house, came quickly back, Fausch's hands itched to take hold of him, and show him to the landlord and say: "His name is Cain. I chose and I still choose that he should bear that name." The inner conflict in Stephen Fausch was not yet ended.
When the clerk went on writing: "Legitimate son of Stephen Fausch and Maria his wife, née Lehr," he laughed aloud, but he made no objection. After this business was finished, there remained only Fausch's errand at the minister's to be done. The pastor was a stout, phlegmatic old man.
He could not know that the man was hungering for him, perhaps without knowing it himself, and that his restlessness and that strange wild hunger, that his shut-in nature hid under a rough, ill-tempered manner, had today driven him to follow them to the lake. Fausch's ill temper that evening did not hinder Cain and Vincenza from enjoying each other's company as before.
He listened to Fausch's question quietly, settled himself comfortably in his chair, and answered: "What should I have against him? On the contrary, he is handy, very useful and a confoundedly handsome fellow, only you must send him away, Fausch it wouldn't suit me at all, what was beginning between my daughter and him, that "
What Fausch thought of and reasoned out during the rest of the night, as he walked up and down the room, Simeon, the landlord learned on the following morning, and the others might guess it later if they chose. In the morning, not very early, for haste was not according to Fausch's habits, he went to see the landlord. "May I have another word with you?" he asked.
When the two were alone, there was a droll sort of companionship between them, and they would talk together while the smith was working. The two voices resounded between the cling-clang of the hammers, Fausch's dull or loud, then the child's voice clear and high, like the sound of the hammer when it rebounded from the very outer tip of the anvil.
Suddenly he begged, in a trembling voice: "Couldn't you give me another name?" Fausch's brow still kept its obstinate look. But he said in an unaccustomed, almost friendly tone: "Sit down now and eat something. One can, very likely, shut the mouths of the boys in the village." Cain started to turn away. Then he changed his mind. Some idea seemed to calm him.
Nevertheless something of the picture that he had seen that evening remained in Fausch's mind. The impression lingered for days and weeks, and often occupied his thoughts. Once or twice he asked Katharine about the boy: "What is the little fellow doing? Do you still feed him so well?" The time passed in Waltheim as it does everywhere.
He stood there looking as if he had just come out of a bandbox, for Katharine still took the same care of him that she had formerly taken of the little count. He did, indeed, wear coarse gray stockings, and his jacket and trousers were made out of Fausch's cast off Sunday clothes.
A small lamp hung from the ceiling, the fire on the hearth was burning brightly, and threw its flickering light over his figure and his blond hair. The conversation had languished, and Cain was singing softly to himself in his beautiful deep voice. When he stopped, Katharine said: "Sing some more!" Above the bubbling of the kettle she heard Fausch's step. Then he entered the room.
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