As she stood a moment hesitating, she heard herself addressed from the door of the inn, before which the diligence had halted. Turning she saw a most suave personage bowing and smiling, and imploring her to enter the hostelry. Wilhelmine looked with interest at the man, evidently the innkeeper, yet of so clerical an appearance that she thought he must be a particularly prosperous priest. She entered the inn, and was ordering herself some slight refreshment from her obsequious host when bells from some neighbouring church rang out. The innkeeper crossed his brow and breast with the third finger of his right hand, while with his left hand he piously hid his eyes. He recited some prayers in a mumbling undertone, then crossing himself once more, he turned with an oily smile to Wilhelmine. 'The Angelus,' he said; 'evidently Madame is not of the Faith. Here in Rottenburg we are all members of the true Church. We have had the privilege of having a Jesuit college here these many years.' Wilhelmine made some appropriate answer, and noted for the first time in her personal experience the truth of a remark of Monsieur Gabriel's, that one of the strengths of the Catholic Church is the semi-clericalising of the laymen who live in or near any religious centre. It flatters the uneducated to feel themselves akin to their spiritual dictators, and it gives them a spurious refinement. Undoubtedly, the host of the Roemischer Kaiser was an excellent specimen of this class. Wilhelmine, having partaken of her breakfast, was setting out to walk towards the Neuhaus, where her brother had directed her to appear, when she saw Friedrich Graevenitz coming down the street. He greeted his sister hastily, and explained that the diligence had arrived before the usual hour. He apologised for not having been at the inn to welcome his sister on her arrival, but it struck Wilhelmine that though her brother had gained in polish of manner since he had become a courtier, he had lost the warmth and friendliness which had characterised him in earlier days. She felt chilled and saddened, and it was in silence that she walked beside him across the fields from Rottenburg to Madame de Ruth's house. A stout peasant followed them carrying her scanty baggage. Friedrich talked volubly to his unresponsive companion, and though he expressed the hope, with much politeness, that she was not fatigued by her journey, he did not listen to her reply, but plunged into an exact account of his own position at court and of his poverty and difficulties. His sister was weary, and an overpowering sense of loneliness possessed her; she had always known her brother to be an egoist, but a certain spontaneous, easy kindness had masked his self-love when he was in Mecklemburg.