"A famous idea of yours," repeated the pastor, while his delicate face, his well formed lips, bright blue eyes, and lofty intellectual forehead, assumed an expression of even greater benevolence than usual—"a famous idea indeed, to get leave of absence to spend the holidays with us, but," added he, smiling and glancing at the gun leaning against the wall in a corner, "your fire-arms will not profit you much here, unless, indeed, you have the good fortune to hit the wolf, who has been lately seen prowling about in the wood."
"I have neither come to visit you solely from the wish to see you, nor with the idea of sport," answered the young farmer, in a deep and manly voice, "my chief motive is to persuade you, my dear brother-in-law, to withdraw your application for the pastorate in the Odenwald, and to delay moving until there is a vacant Cure either near the capital, or in it. My uncle Zettler, who is now Consistorial President, has promised to secure the first vacant charge for you."
"Impossible! Both Lina and I should certainly have liked to be in the vicinity of our parents, and I have often an eager thirst for good music, but I am a bad hand at the new orthodoxy of the day, and the eager discussions as to whether a sermon is according to strict church principles. Among my fellow-workers in the Church, there is an incessant feverish anxiety for the souls of their mutual parishioners, inducing them to exchange religious exhortations, which appears to me a very vainglorious system. It is with that, like education; the less teaching parents bestow on their children, the more incessantly they talk on the subject. Live a good life, and a pious one, and you can train up both your children and your parishioners, without possessing much learning, and without such endless wear and tear of care and anxiety. I know that I teach a pure faith so far as my ability goes, and moreover, I am averse to all innovations. We must grow old along with those on whom we wish to impress our doctrines. In a well organized government, a man remains in the same situation, but is gradually promoted in his office. I only applied for the vacant Cure in the Odenwald because I feel that I am becoming too old for the dissensions and strife which prevail here, and also because I have not the power to prevent a piece of cruelty at which my heart revolts—but now, let us sing."
He rose, went to the piano, and began the symphony of his favourite melody, and his wife and her young brother sang, with well taught voices, the duet from Titus—"Joy and sorrow let us share."
The two voices, blending harmoniously in this impressive melody, were like friendly hands clasped, or a cordial embrace.
While they were singing, a sound like the cracking of a whip seemed to ascend from the road before the house, but they did not pay much attention to it, mutually agreeing that it must be a delusion on their part. Now, however, that the song was at an end, the sound of a carriage and the loud cracking of a whip were distinctly heard. The pastor's wife opened the window, and putting out her head, into the dark night air, called out "Is any one there?"
"Yes, indeed," answered a gruff voice.
She closed the window quickly, for a current of biting icy air rushed in and made the singer's cheeks all in a glow. Her brother wished to look out also to see who it was, but his anxious sister held him back, as he was so heated by singing. She sent the maid down, and in the mean time, bewailed the possibility of her husband being, perhaps, obliged to go out on such a night.
The maid quickly returned, saying that a sledge had come from Röttmann's godless old wife, who desired that the clergyman should come to her immediately.
"Is Adam here, or a servant?" asked the pastor.