Marie Möller stood at first as if thunder-struck; poisonous glances shot from her eyes; then she bent round and threw the cloth that was in her hand right in his face, so that the water spattered over his ears. "Too old? Impertinence! Too old, do you say?" and grasping the washbowl full of water she threw it over his head, and ran out of the room. And as Fritz stood there, gasping and snuffling, she opened the door again, and putting her head in, said,-- "Don't let me see you in my pantry again!" Love had now received its death-blow; there was an end also of the pantry indulgences; and as Fritz stood there dripping, it seemed to him, among his confused thoughts, that the whole story did not exactly harmonize with his ideas of love, still less with the romances he had read, and he uttered in his vexation the selfsame words he had spoken at the beginning of his apprenticeship, when he was working on the road in the November rain: "It is quite different from what I thought! A good, thing, though, that the old man is not at home," added he, "or he might have heard the uproar." Habermann had gone with Franz this morning to the Gurlitz church. He always took this walk, with still, pious thoughts, but to-day his heart was brimful of thankfulness to God, whose fatherly hand had led his child so far on her life journey, for, on this Palm Sunday morning, Louise was to be confirmed. He walked, silent and absorbed in thought, along the foot-path, his eye resting on the pleasant landscape, where the snow still lay in white streaks along side the ditches and under the shade of the dark fir-trees, and where the green, springing rye in the bright sunshine told of Easter, and preached the Resurrection. The chimney-smoke lay over the little villages, and the sun seemed to press it down, as though this token of human care and labor ought not to darken the bright world, as if there would not be room enough else for the joyous sound of the church bells, which echoed, far and wide, over field and forest. "Ah, if she had only lived to see this day!" said the old man aloud, and as if he thought himself alone. "Who?" asked Franz, a little shyly, as if he feared to be too inquisitive. "My poor wife, the mother of my dear child," said the old man, softly, and looked at the young man with such friendly, honest eyes, that seemed to say, "Look into our depths and read this simple, true heart! We will answer all thy questions, and it shall echo long in thy memory." "Yes," said he, "my good wife! But what do I say? She sees more, to-day, than I can of her child, and she does more than I can for her child; for her thoughts are higher than the blue heavens, and her joys brighter than the golden sun."