The Justice now left the room for a moment, and the Hunter went over to the Pastor and greeted him by name. The clergyman started and passed his hand across his eyes, but he, likewise, at once recognized the other and was no less happy to see him. "But," he added to the first words of greeting, "this is no place nor time for a talk. Come along with me afterwards when I drive away from the farm--then we can have a chat together. I am a public character here and stand under the constraint of a most imperious ceremonial. We cannot take any notice of each other, and you too, in a passive sort of way, must conform to the ritual. Above all things don't laugh at anything that you see--that would offend the good people extremely. These old established customs, strange as they may seem, always have, nevertheless, their venerable side." "Have no fear," replied the Hunter. "But I should like to know--" "Everything afterwards!" whispered the clergyman, glancing toward the door, which the Justice was just then re-entering. He retreated from the Hunter just as from a stranger. The Justice and his daughter themselves brought in the food and laid it on the table, which had been set in this room. There were chicken soup, a dish of French beans and a long sausage, roast pork and plums, butter, bread, and cheese, and, in addition, a bottle of wine. All this was put on the table at the same time. The peasant too had left the horses and come into the room. When everything was steaming on the table, which had been laid for only two persons, the Justice politely invited the clergyman to seat himself, and the latter, after saying grace, sat down, as did likewise, a short distance away from him, the peasant. "Do I not eat here too?" inquired the Hunter. "Nay, God forbid!" answered the Justice, and the bride looked at him from one side in amazement. "Only the Diaconus and the Colonus eat here--you sit at the table with the Sexton outside." The Hunter went into another room, opposite, after observing to his surprise that the Justice and his daughter themselves attended to the serving of this first and most aristocratic table. In the other room he found the Sexton, his wife, and the maid, all standing around a table which had been laid there, and impatiently awaiting, as it seemed, the arrival of their fourth companion. The same eatables were steaming on this table, except that the butter and cheese were missing and beer took the place of the wine. The Sexton stepped with dignity to the head seat and, keeping his eyes on the dishes, recited aloud the following verses: The birds that fly, the beasts that crawl, For man's behoof God made them all; Chicken soup, beans, pork, plums and veal, Are gifts divine--Lord bless the meal!