Madame von Wendenstein went silently and quietly about the house,--she looked after the house keeping, and arranged everything as punctually as ever,--but sometimes the old lady would pause suddenly, her dreamy eyes fixed on the far-off distance, as if they sought to follow her thoughts beyond the wood-encircled horizon,--then she would hastily resume her occupation, and hurry restlessly through the well-known rooms, and the more she ordered and arranged the more she seemed to become mistress of her heavy trouble. It was very quiet too in the Pfarrhaus. No one had left it, all went on as usual, but the general depression seemed to weigh down the humble roof, and even the roses in the garden hung their heads exhausted by the burning heat of the sun. The pastor had gone out, as was his custom, to visit some of his people, for he did not consider the Sunday services his only duty, but thought that he who would really be a shepherd and bishop of souls must carry the word of God in friendly converse into the daily life of his flock and know its joys and sorrows. Helena sat at the window, and mechanically plied her needle, but her eyes were often thoughtfully turned to the far distance, and her hands sank wearily into her lap. Candidate Behrmann sat opposite to her; he was as neatly dressed and as smoothly brushed as ever, and his expressionless and composed countenance looked happier and more cheerful than usual. His sharp observing eyes followed the looks the young girl fixed on the distant horizon, and that the languishing conversation might not entirely fail, he said,-- "It is strange what a sultry oppression hangs over all nature; we feel the actual weight of this thick heavy atmosphere." "Our poor soldiers---what they must suffer from marching in this heat!" cried Helena, sighing. "In those days I feel how doubly happy I am," said the candidate, "when I think of my peaceful and spiritual calling, and contrast it with the useless and really reprehensible employment of the soldiers, and all they must now undergo." "Useless and reprehensible!" cried Helena, gazing at him with her great eyes; "do you call it useless to fight for your king and your country?" "Not according to the views of the world," he said sanctimoniously; "all these people are doing their duty according to their lights; but the king himself is reprehensible, and the sacrifices they make for him are useless, for what will they gain? Oh! it is a nobler fight, and more pleasing to God, to struggle with spiritual weapons against sin and unbelief, and to benefit mankind--as your father does, Helena," he added, "and as I hope to emulate him in doing." "Certainly it is a nobler calling, beautiful and holy, but a soldier also serves God when he fights on the side of right," said the young girl warmly. "Which side is right?" asked the candidate; "both sides call on the God of battles, and very often what is evidently the wrong side conquers."