The brothers one day should be able to say of him: “He has been of some good, after all, even if he could not follow us in our brilliant careers.” Yes; the brothers! How tall and distinguished they had grown meanwhile. One of them studied philology, and the other had entered a big bank as clerk. In spite of their good aunt, both wanted money, much money--far, far more than their father could send them. Paul hoped that for them also, as a result of his beginning farming, a better time would come. All surplus money should be sent to them, and he! oh, he would save and scrape, so that they might strive for their lofty aims, free from need and care. With these pious thoughts Paul made his way to the first confirmation class. It was a sunny spring morning at the beginning of the month of April. The fresh grass on the heath shone in greenish lights, juniper and heather budded with new tender shoots, anemones and ranunculus were blooming at the edge of the wood. A warm wind waved over the heath towards him; he could have shouted aloud, and his heart was quite filled with rapture. “There must be something sad in store,” he said to himself, “for on earth one may not feel so happy.” Before the rectory garden there stood a long row of conveyances, only a few of which he knew. There was also aristocratic carriages among them. The coachmen with their shining buttons sat on their boxes with proud smiles and threw contemptuous glances all around. In the garden were assembled a big troop of children. The boys and girls stood apart. Among the boys were the two brothers from whom he had had to suffer so much formerly, and who had ceased going to school for the last year. They gave him a friendly greeting, and while one of them shook hands with him the other tripped him up. Some of the girls walked arm in arm on the paths. Some also had put their arms round each other’s waists and giggled. Most of them were strangers to him. Some seemed especially aristocratic; they wore fine gray ulsters, and had hats with feathers on their heads. The carriages outside must belong to them. He looked down at his jacket, to assure himself that he had nothing to be ashamed of. It was made of fine black cloth, from an old evening suit of his student brother’s, and looked as good as new, only that the seams were a little shiny. Taken altogether, he did not need to be ashamed of himself. A bell sounded. The candidates were called into the church. Paul felt light-hearted and pious in the solemn twilight of the house of God. He did not think of his jacket any longer; the forms of the boys around grew shadowy. At both sides of the altar benches were placed. On the right the boys were to have their seats, and on the left the girls.