The Black Spider Read Free

with a great bunch of flowers in the middle which was surrounded by ingenious legends, such as:
    Take heed, O man:
A pound of butter costs three Batzen.
    God is gracious to man,
But I live on good grass land.
    In hell it’s hot,
And the potter has to work hard.
    The cow eats grass;
Man ends in the grave.
    Next to the cheese she placed a huge cake, that peculiar Bernese confection, coiled like the women’s plaits, beautifully brown and yellow, baked with best flour, eggs and butter, as large as a one-year-old child and weighing almost as much; and on either side she placed two more plates. Piled up on them lay appetizing fritters, yeast cakes on the one plate, pancakes on the other. Thick, warm cream was standing on the oven, covered up in a jug with lovely flowers patterned on it, and in the glistening three-legged can with its yellow lid the coffee was bubbling. In this way a breakfast was awaiting the godparents, when they should arrive, of a sort that princes seldom have and no peasant farmers in the world except the Bernese. Thousands of English people go rushing through Switzerland, but never has one of the jaded lords or one of the stiff-legged ladies been presented with a breakfast like this.
    “If only they’d come soon, it’s all waiting,” the midwife sighed. “Anyway, it’ll be a good time before they’re all ready and everybody’s had what they want, and the pastor is awfully punctual and ticks you off sharply if you’re not there at the right time.”
    “Grandfather never allows the pram to be taken,” the young wife said. “He believes that a child which is not carried to its christening, but is led on wheels, will grow up lazy and never learn to use its legs properly its whole life through. If only the grandmother were here, she’ll hold us up longest, the godfathers make shorter work of things, and if the worst came to the worst they could always hurry along behind.” Anxiety about the godparents spread through the whole house. “Aren’t they coming yet?” could be heard everywhere; from all corners of the house faces peered out for them, and the dog barked for all it was worth, as if it was trying to summon them too. But the grandmother said, “It used not to be like this in the old days; then you knew that you had to get up at the right time on such a day and the pastor wouldn’t wait for anybody.” Finally, the farmer’s boy rushed into the kitchen with the news that the godmother was coming.
    She came bathed in sweat and loaded up as if she were the Christ child going to give the New Year presents. In one hand she had the black strings of a large, flower-patterned holdall in which was a big Bernese cake wrapped in a fine white cloth, a present for the young mother. In the other hand she was carrying a second bag, and in this there was a garment for the child as well as a few articles for her own use, in particular, fine white stockings; and under the one arm she had something else, a cardboard box which contained her wreath and her laced cap with its wonderful black silk hair trimmings. Joyfully the greeting of “Welcome in God’s name” was given her from all sides, and she scarcely had time to put down one of her parcels so that she could free her own hand to meet the hands stretched towards her in friendly welcome. From all directions helpful hands reached for her burdens, and there was the young wife standing by the door, and so a new series of greetings began, until the midwife summoned them into the living room: they could surely say to each other inside there what custom demanded on such an occasion.
    And with neat gestures the midwife placed the godmother at the table, and the young wife came with the coffee, even though the godmother refused and asserted that she had already had some. Her father’s sister wouldn’t let her leave the house without having something to eat, that was bad for young girls, she said. But after all her aunt was getting old now, and the maids