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Updated: May 31, 2025
The smith had long ago left off working, and the table was already set for him and the boy. Fausch did not light the lamp. He liked to sit in the dark, which grew gradually deeper in the room, until his heavy form was no longer recognizable, but only a red point, the glow and the smoke of his pipe, and his heavy breathing betrayed his presence. Then Katharine opened the door.
Fausch did not pause in his work. Only once he looked quickly, almost secretly at the lad who was approaching. "That's a fine looking boy of yours, Fausch," Simmen went on. The smith muttered something or other.
The smith only said, rudely: "It's none of your business what I do." So Fausch gave the trader a new nut to crack, though he had long puzzled over the smith's behavior and character. But Simmen, the landlord, of whom he also asked the cause of Fausch's departure, was equally evasive.
"If the boy wants to go out of your life, Stephen Fausch, cannot you just as well pass out of his?" He realized that it was the story of himself and the boy together that gave the material for all the scandal.
I marked him with that name so that everybody points at him. I did him an injustice! Don't send him away for that. Fausch had to pause a moment. The sweat stood on his dark forehead. He passed his hand helplessly across it. "Yes, yes," said Simmen meanwhile, "What you say is all very true, but still he can't stay here, where he will see Vincenza every day "
"I might like the smithy up there," he said. The tradesman's instinct awoke in Hallheimer. He became so animated, that his gestures were as eloquent as his speech. "You're not determined to stay here for good and all? You will do a good business, really you will make a success, Fausch." Each word led to another. They talked together for a long time.
There was something about him that seemed as if he were forcibly controlling his own stubborn nature for the sake of another, and as there had been in his obstinacy something terrifying, so now, in the force with which he for the first time constrained it, there was something almost great. Katharine felt her breath come quicker. A reverent timidity came over her. Stephen Fausch had caused it.
Stephen Fausch was still busy in and around the workshop, and Cain stood near by. His eyes were full of careless joy, and his chest expanded. Once he began to sing. Then he reminded his father once more: "Come now, the milk is waiting." As they were about to enter the house, through the open door which was near the workshop, the boy once more looked about over the distant view.
Cain heard him railing loudly at Vincenza, as he walked into the house behind her. His angry voice could be heard across the yard for some time. Cain stood and listened, with a log of wood in his hand. Over at the workshop, Fausch left the doorway where he had been watching and went out of the back door. He had no peace of mind left for his work.
So he wrote the word in the little blank space on which Stephen's eye rested. Accordingly Maria's boy was named Cain, duly and lawfully. When the name stood in black and white, in the book, Fausch nodded, quickly, crossly, and indifferently, as if to say: "There it stands now! Of course it would have to be there!"
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