Just as they left the house Mr. Behrens came back from Warnitz, accompanied by uncle Bräsig. He knew from the dress of the Pomuchelskopp family that they had come to pay a visit of ceremony, and hastened from the carriage that he might speak to them before they left. "Ah, how do you do! But," he added in astonishment, "where is my wife?"--"She went away and left us," said Mrs. Pomuchelskopp shortly.--"There must be some mistake," he said, "pray come in, and I will rejoin you in a few minutes." He went away to look for his wife.--Meanwhile Bräsig had approached his old acquaintance Pomuchelskopp. "Good morning, Samuel. How are you?" he said.--"Thank you, Mr. bailiff Bräsig, I am very well," was the answer.--Bräsig raised his eye-brows, looked him full in the face, and whistled, and when Mrs. Pomuchelskopp curtsied to him before going away, she might have spared herself the trouble, for he had already turned his back upon them, and was entering the house. "Come, Kopp," said his wife crossly, and they went home. Mr. Behrens found no one in the house; so he went into the garden, and shouted, and very soon the twins appeared, red-eyed, from behind the raspberry hedge. They pointed to the hornbeam arbour with anxious faces, as much as to say that he would find the cause of their sorrow there. He went to the arbour, and there he found his Regina sitting with Louisa on her knee, comforting her. As soon as she saw her pastor she put the child gently on the bench, and, drawing him away to a short distance, told him all that had happened. Mr. Behrens listened silently, but when his wife repeated the cruel words that Mr. Pomuchelskopp had used in speaking of Hawermann, his face flushed with anger, and his eyes were full of a deep compassion, he then asked his wife to return to the house, for he would like to speak to the child alone.--His beautiful human flower had now been hurt for the first time, she had had her first blow from the pitiless world, a blow that her gentle heart would never forget as long as it continued to beat; she had now taken her place in the eternal battle of existence that will last as long as the human race. It must have come--it must have come to that at last, no one knew that better than he did, but he also knew that the great object of those who undertake the education of a human soul is to preserve it from such rude experiences until it has grown strong to bear, so that the blow may neither strike so deep, nor the wound take so long to heal--and this child knew nothing of the malice and uncharitableness of the world.--He entered the arbour.--Thou art still happy, Louisa, in spite of all that has come and gone, for it is well for him who in an hour like this has such a true-hearted friend by his side.