"Look alive, Jochen," called Bräsig from within, "and do the 'honneurs,' that Karl's young nobleman may have some opinion of your manners." After Jochen had received them, and the greetings with the family and the Pastor and his wife were over, Frau Nüssler began to talk to her brother about her domestic affairs, the Pastor engaged in conversation with the young Herr von Rambow, the Frau Pastorin asked the little girls about their Christmas presents. Jochen sat silently in his old corner by the stove, and Bräsig in his great seal-skin boots which came nearly up to his waist, went from one to another, as if it were Christmas eve over again, and he were playing St. Nicholas, to frighten the children. The sun looked in at the window now and then, the room was warm and comfortable, the coffee-steam rose in little clouds and mingled with the smoke-wreaths from the Pastor's pipe, till it seemed like a summer day, with light, feathery clouds floating in the sunshine. Only, near the stove, it looked as if a thunder-shower was coming up, for there sat Jochen, smoking as if for a wager. His wife had taken away the "Fleigen Markur" from his tobacco-pouch, and filled it for the occasion with "Fine old mild," and he could not get the strength of the "Markur" from this more delicate quality of tobacco, without using a double portion. But a cloud was coming up outside, not exactly in the heavens, nor yet from the earth beneath,--which would disturb the repose of this quiet room. One of Frau Nüssler's maids came in to say that there was a man outside with a cart, who had brought a travelling trunk from the apothecary at Rahnstadt, and where should it be put? "God bless me!" cried the Frau Pastorin, "that is Fritz's trunk. You will see, Pastor, my brother-in-law is so inconsiderate, he has let the boy come on horseback again. Nobody ought to ride that wild horse, Habermann." "Oh, don't be troubled, Frau Pastorin," said Habermann, laughing a little, "the horse is not so bad----" "Ah, Habermann, but I saw him before, when he first came to Pumpelhagen; the creature would not stir a step." "Frau Pastorin," said Bräsig, "it is not so bad if a beast is balky as when the rascal takes to running; then the Latin riders used to fall off." But the little Frau Pastorin could not rest; she opened the window, and asked the man who had driven the cart whether Fritz was riding, and was the horse very vicious? "Like a lamb," was the reply. "If he does nothing to the horse, the horse will do nothing to him. He will be here directly." That was comforting, so the Frau Pastorin seated herself again on the sofa, saying, with a sigh,-- "My poor sister! I tremble for her, whenever I set eyes on the boy. He plays too many stupid jokes." "He will be up to something of the sort, now?" said Bräsig.