Читать книгу Walda. A Novel онлайн

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“Nay, I have not said that I took it,” replied the fool.

“Yet thou hast knowledge of it, Hans Peter?” asked Gerson Brandt, his eyes scanning the dull face of the simple one.

“It is said I have knowledge of naught,” said Hans Peter, who rose to his feet and, folding his arms across his ragged, blue blouse, confronted the school-master and the Herr Doktor with fearless eyes.

“Why bandy words with a fool?” said the overseer. “There is much to be done.”

The men and women of Zanah returned to their tasks. Some of the men piled the grapes into large tubs, which were lifted on wagons drawn by fat, sleek horses. The women, scattered among the vines, industriously cut off the bunches of luscious fruit, and the boys who had accompanied Gerson Brandt into the vineyard were sent back and forth, bearing pails and baskets on their heads. Mother Werther gave Hans Peter the tin cups to carry back to the village, and he went away unnoticed except by Everett, who had the feeling that the simple one might be able to tell what had become of Gerson Brandt’s treasured volume.