Paul was pushed into the back row, where the little ones and the poor sat. Between two barefooted cottage children, who wore coarse, ragged jackets, he took his seat. Past the shoulders of the boys before him he saw how the girls on the other side ranged themselves: the most distinguished in front, and then the more poorly clad. He was thinking whether in heaven the order of rank would be a similar one, and the verse occurred to him: “Blessed are the meek and lowly, for they shall be exalted.” The vicar came. He was a comfortable-looking man, with a double chin and light, spare whiskers. His upper lip shone from frequent shaving. He did not wear his robe, but a simple black coat; nevertheless, he looked very dignified and solemn. He first spoke a long prayer on the text, “Suffer little children to come unto Me,” and added an exhortation to consider the coming year as a time of consecration, not to romp wildly or to dance, for that would not be in keeping with a student of religion. “I have never romped or danced,” thought Paul, and for a moment he was filled with pride over his pious conduct. “But it was a pity all the same--” he thought afterwards. Then the vicar praised as the highest of all Christian virtues: humility. None of these children should feel above the others because their parents happened to be richer and more distinguished than those of their humbler brethren and sisters, because before God’s throne they were all equal. “That’s for you,” thought Paul, and lovingly seized the arm of his ragged neighbor. The latter thought he wanted to pinch him, and said, “Ow, don’t!” Then the vicar took from his pocket a piece of paper, and said, “Now I will read you the order of rank in which you will have to sit henceforth.” “Why this order of rank,” thought Paul, “if before God’s throne we are all equal?” The very first name startled Paul, for it was “Elsbeth Douglas.” He saw a tall, pale girl, with a gentle face and fair hair smoothly combed back, rise and walk towards the first place. “So that’s you,” thought Paul, “and we shall be confirmed together.” His heart beat with joy, but also with fear, because he was anxious at the same time lest she should think him too much beneath her. “Perhaps she does not remember me any more,” he thought. He watched her as she took her seat with downcast eyes and a kind smile. “No; she is not proud,” he said softly to himself; but to make sure he looked at his jacket. Then the boys were called up. The brothers Erdmann came first. Without asking, they had already placed themselves comfortably on the first seats, and then his own name was called out. At this moment Elsbeth Douglas did exactly as he had done before. She raised her head quickly and scrutinized the ranks of the boys.