Immediately after, Paul, too, saw his sisters. Their mass of brown curls hung loose about their faces, their cheeks were aflame, their bosoms heaved, and their eyes looked wild and eager for love.
“How happy they look—the sweet creatures,” said Elsbeth.
Paul gave them a little sermon. They scarcely heeded him, but looked over his shoulders, giggling. And when he turned round he saw the two Erdmanns, who had hidden behind the musicians’ platform and were making clandestine signs to them.
The twins by this time had escaped him, and the Erdmanns disappeared as well.
“Come away from here,” said Elsbeth.
He consented, but remained as if rooted to the ground.
“What is the matter?” she asked.
He passed his hand across his brow; he could not get those contemptuous words which he had overheard out of his head. The sisters were young, merry, inexperienced, nobody looked after them; if they should lower themselves in any way, if they—an icy shudder passed through him.
And he, who had vowed to be their faithful guardian, he was going after his own pleasure, he—
“Come to the wood,” Elsbeth pleaded again.