The baron had offered Oswald a carriage to drive to church, but the young man declined, remembering still the evil thoughts to which he had been tempted by the slowness of the bays on the night of his arrival. Bruno and Malte were looking for a visit from the sons of a neighbor. Bruno would have liked best to accompany Oswald, but as the latter begged him to stay at home, he said: "You are very glad to get rid of me for a few hours, I know, but I know also what I shall do. I shall go into the woods, and not return home till evening." "You will not do that, I hope, Bruno?" "And why not?" asked the boy, angrily. "Because you love me." "Well, then, I'll stay here for your sake; nor will I beat stupid Hans von Plügger, and altogether behave so remarkably well that even aunty will have to be satisfied." "Do that, my dear boy. Good-by!" "Good-by, dearest, best of all friends!" cried the boy, and threw himself passionately on the bosom of his only friend. Then he tore himself away and ran off into the garden, there to be alone with his wild, unbridled heart. Oswald took the path which he knew would lead him to the village where the minister lived. The sun was shining brightly in the blue sky, on which large white flakes of clouds were standing quietly about. The air was not oppressive, for the vicinity of the sea tempered the summer heat. Larks were singing their jubilates on high. Near the edge of the great forest, which sent an outrunner, as it were, far into the cultivated fields, an immense bird of prey was drawing its wide circles. No laborers were to be seen in the fields, and the ploughs and harrows were lying idle about. In an enclosure near the road, fat cows and calves were ruminating in peace and comfort; a couple of merry colts came up to the fence and looked with curiosity at the wanderer.