Our village was far away from the modern world when I was a boy; it was still the Middle Age and promised to remain so forever. Our village was in the middle of that old ways, being in the middle of nation. It drowsed in peace in the deep privacy of a mountainous and woodsy isolation where news from the world hardly ever came. The whole region for leagues around was the inherited property of a prince, whose servants kept the castle always in perfect condition for occupancy, but he never came there oftener than once in five years. When they came it was as if the lord of the world had arrived, and had brought all the glories of its kingdoms along and they left a calm behind which was like the deep sleep which follows a celebration.
The villages name was Eseldorf; it was a paradise for my friends and me. We were not annoyed with schooling and learning. Mainly we were trained to be good boys and to revere the the elders above everything. Outside of that we were not required to know much and, in reality, not allowed to. Knowledge was not good for the common people, one old lady had said, it could make them discontented with the lot which God had appointed for them, and He would not endure discontentment with heavens' plans.
We had two priests in the whole village. One was Father Alfred, who was very zealous and energetic man. Before there had been worthier priests, in some ways than Father Alfred but there was never in our community who was held in more earnest and respect than him. This was because he had absolutely no fear of General Winter, the most evil spirit in our lands. Father Alfred was the only man I have ever known of whom that could be truly said of. The general public stood in deep dismay of him on that account. For they thought that there must be something supernatural about him, else he could not be so bold and so confident. Father Alfred's way with dealing with the General Winter was very different from any I had seen. He called General Winter by every name he could lay his tongue on. It made everyone trembling and crossed themselves, leaving quickly out of his presence dreading that something dreadful might happen. Father Alfred had actually met General Winter face to face more than once and defied him, he said it himself. He never made any secret of it, but spoke about it all the time. There was proof in at least one occasion when he quarreled with the enemy. He boldly threw a bottle at him and there, upon the wall of hallway of his home, was the reddish splotch where it struck and broke.
But it was Father Antonio, the other priest that we all loved best and were sorry for. He had many enemies even though he was so kind. Father Antonio's greats enemy was, the astrologer, Wang Yao, who lived in a toppled old tower up the valley, and put in his nights studying the stars. Everyone knew he could foretell wars and famines, though that was not so hard, for there was always a war, and generally a famine somewhere. But he could also read any man's life through the stars in a big book he had, and everyone in the village except Father Antonio stood in awe of him. Even Father Alfred, who had defied the Devil, had an open respect for Yao when he came through our village wearing his odd hat and his flowing robe with stars on it carrying his big book, and a staff which was known to have magic power. The bishop himself sometimes listened to Yao, it was said, for, besides studying the stars and prophesying, Yao made a great show of piousness, which would impress the bishop, of course.
But Father Antonio took no care in Yao. He criticized him openly as a swindler with no valuable knowledge of any kind, or powers. This naturally made Yao hate Father Antonio and wish to ruin him. It was Yao, as we all believed, who originated the story about Father Antonio's shocking remark and carried it to the bishop. It was said that Father Antonio had made the remark to his niece, Feliciana, though she denied it and implored the bishop to believe her and spare her uncle from poverty and disgrace. But the bishop wouldn't listen to her. He suspended Father Antonio forever, though he wouldn't go so far as to excommunicate him on the evidence of only one witness; and now Father Antonio had been out a couple of years, and our other priest, Father Alfred, had his flock.
Those had been hard years for the priest and Feliciana. They had been favorites, but of course that changed when they came under the shadow of the bishop's frown. Many of their friends fell away entirely, and the rest became distant. Feliciana was a lovely girl of eighteen when the trouble came, and she had the best head in the village, and the most in it. She was forgotten when there were dances and parties among the youth of the village the young fellows stopped coming to the house, all except Ludwig Beilschmidt. Feliciana and her uncle were sad and lonely in their neglect and shame, the sunshine was gone out of their lives. Troubles went worse and worse, all through the two years for them. Their clothes were wearing out, bread was harder and harder to get and now, at last, the very end was come. The bank had lent all the money he was willing to put on their house, and gave notice that soon it would foreclose on them.