At every house the young officer was greeted, and he returned the salutations in a friendly way, speaking to most of the peasants by name, in a manner that showed he was well known, and near home.
On one side of the semicircular village, not far from the road leading to the castle, stood a plain old church, and near to it, in a pretty, well-kept garden, the quiet, cheerful-looking vicarage.
There was a foot-path from the garden to the broad road leading to the castle, and on this path two persons walked towards the highway.
One was an old gentleman of nearly sixty years of age; his black coat buttoned up to his throat, his dazzlingly white cravat of fine folded cambric, as also that remarkable tall square biretta of black velvet, made on the exact pattern of those handed down to us in portraits of Luther and Melanchthon, and still preferred by the Hanoverian clergy, showed at a glance that he was the village pastor.
His full, strongly-marked face, with its healthy colour, expressed, besides benevolent cheerfulness, a great deal of energetic character, and a decided, cultivated mind, which, separated from the great stream of life, had developed wonderfully in seclusion, framing a world of its own, where it found both peace and happiness.
It was Pastor Berger, who for more than twenty years had lived here amongst his flock.
Beside him walked his only daughter; for the last ten years, ever since her mother's death, she alone had shared her father's quiet life, and he had bestowed upon her education great and loving care; avoiding the common taste for amusements only to be found in the great world so far off, and teaching her to enjoy the quiet happiness which so completely satisfied himself.
The young girl's dark dress had a certain elegance, notwithstanding its country simplicity. She was not tall, but slender and graceful; her glossy chestnut hair appeared beneath the black velvet hat which shaded her delicate oval face, the slightly parted fresh lips smiled as if they breathed in happiness, whilst the brilliant though soft and thoughtful eyes, showed depths of intense poetic feeling.
The young officer perceived them, reined in his horse, and raising his hand to his cap for a military salute, exclaimed, "Good evening, Herr Pastor; good evening, Miss Helena!"
The clergyman called out "Good evening" loudly and cheerfully, and he too saluted with his hand; his daughter only slightly bowed her head without uttering a word, but the smile trembling on her lips, the joyful look beaming in her eyes, proved her greeting to be as hearty as her father's.