His mother had told him before he left just to address Elsbeth. She had charged him with many greetings for her mother, and he was to ask, too, how she was. On his way he had studied a long speech, only he was not quite decided yet whether to address her with “_Du_” or “_Sie_.” “_Du_” would have been the simplest; his mother took it for granted. But the “_Sie_” sounded decidedly more distinguished--so nice and grown up. And as he could come to no decision he avoided addressing her at all. He, too, took out his Bible, and both put their elbows on their knees and studied as if for a wager. It was not of much use to him, because when the vicar questioned him afterwards he had forgotten every word of it. A painful silence ensued; the Erdmanns laughed viciously, and he had to sit down again, his face burning with shame. He dared not look up any more, and when, on leaving the church, he saw Elsbeth standing at the porch as if she was waiting for something, he lowered his eyes and tried to pass her quickly. However, she stepped forward and spoke to him. “My mother has charged me--I am to ask you--how your mother is?” He answered that she was well. “And she sends her many kind regards,” continued Elsbeth. “And my mother also sends many kind regards to yours,” he answered, turning the Bible and hymn-book between his fingers, “and I was to ask you, too, how she is?” “Mamma told me to say,” she replied, like something learned by heart, “that she is often ill, and has to keep in-doors very much; but now that spring is here she is better; and would you not like to drive in our carriage as far as your house? I was to ask you, she said.” “Just look, Meyerhofer is sweethearting!” cried the elder Erdmann, who had hidden behind the church door, through the crack of which he wanted to tickle his companions with a little straw. Elsbeth and Paul looked at each other in surprise, for they did not know the meaning of this phrase; but as they felt that it must signify something very bad they blushed and separated. Paul looked after her as she got into the carriage and drove away. This time the old lady was not waiting for her. It was her governess, he had heard. Yes; she was of such high rank that she even had a governess of her own. “The Erdmanns will get a good licking yet;” with that he ended his reflections. The next week passed without his speaking to Elsbeth. When he entered the church she was generally already in her seat. Then she would nod to him kindly, but that was all. And then came a Monday when her carriage was not waiting for her. He noticed it at once, and as he walked towards the church-yard he breathed more freely, for the proud coachman with his fur cap, which he wore even in summer, always caused him a feeling of oppression. He had only to think of this coachman when he sat opposite to her and she appeared to him like a being from another world.