He leaned heavily upon the offered arm, and walked quickly onward. All heard these words, but only the justice saw the tears which rolled down his pale, sunken cheeks.
“You were very harsh, father,” murmured the justice, as they walked on.
“Were you more forgiving?” said the old man, with a trembling voice. “Was not your son amongst the twelve, and did you speak to him, or look at him?”
“He did not pass the night in my house; I drove him away!” said the justice gloomily.
“Oh, oh!” sighed the old man; “how bitter is our grief! We love our children most when they give us most sorrow; but it must be so, friend, we cannot act otherwise. Let us enter the church, and pray God to give us strength to do what is right.”
Supported by the justice, he entered the churchyard, while from the other side the minister, followed by the sacristan and the choirboys, was just appearing.
“See,” murmured the justice, “our good old minister has not come to-day to preach to us; but has sent his assistant. There is certainly some disagreeable order of the archbishop to read to us, and our pastor is not willing to read it; he is a good Prussian, and loves the great king.”
The young minister advanced smilingly to meet the two old men.
“Well,” said he, with sanctimonious friendliness, as he offered both of them a hand, “allow me to congratulate you.”
“For what?” asked both of them, astonished.