The laughter of these two resounded from morning to night through the lonely Howdahs, and the quietness when they were at school or running about in the open fields was the more oppressive. It was all the same to the twins whether there was sunshine or storm in the house; their heads were always full of tricks, and when at times their father’s storming grew too insupportable and they deemed it more prudent to, hide behind the stove, they made up for it there by pinching one another’s legs. They were devoted to Paul, which, however, did not prevent them from quietly claiming as their property the best morsels from his plate, the whitest sheets of paper from his writing-case, and the finest buttons off his trousers, for they used to steal like magpies. He was very anxious about them, for he feared they would become wilder and wilder, especially as his mother grew more tired and despondent, and left matters to take their own course. But he began his educational experiments at the wrong end. His warnings were of no avail, and once as he was in the middle of a beautiful sermon one of them suddenly jumped on his knee, pulled his nose, and called out to his sister, “Fanny, he is getting a beard.” Then the other one climbed after her, and both of them tried who could pinch him the most. But when he got seriously angry with them, they began to sulk, and said, “Fie, we won’t speak to you any more.” He had not seen Elsbeth again since the day of their confirmation, though a whole year had elapsed meanwhile. It was said she had been sent to town to learn there how to move in society. This word had given his heart a pang; he scarcely knew what it meant, but he vaguely felt that she was farther and farther removed from him. But it happened one day about Easter-tide that he had to work on a piece of ground which lay removed from the other fields and far away at the edge of the wood. He was sowing the seed himself, and a servant with two horses went harrowing after him. He wore a big seed-cloth round his shoulders, and watched with quiet pleasure how the grains sparkled like a golden fountain as they sank into the earth. Then it seemed to him that he saw something bright between the dark trunks of the trees, rocking up and down like a cradle suspended in the air. But he scarcely allowed himself time to notice it, for sowing is the kind of work which requires all one’s attention. At length the pause for breakfast came. The servant sat down on a sack of corn, but he himself, feeling hot, went towards the wood to be in the shade. He threw a passing glance at the suspended cradle, and thought, “That must be a hammock;” but he little cared who was lying in it. Then suddenly it seemed to him as if he heard his name called. “Paul, Paul!” It sounded sweet and familiar, and in a soft, clear voice, which he seem to know. He started and looked up. “Paul, do come here,” the voice called again. He turned hot and cold, for now he well knew who it was.