"Yes," said the pastor, "it is the same; but it's not a matter of indifference which you call it, as men think, and that's just where the difference lies. The man that talks of luck doesn't think of God, nor thank Him, nor seek His grace; he seeks luck of and in the world. He who speaks of God's providence thinks of Him, thanks Him, seeks to please Him, sees God's hand in everything; he knows neither bad nor good luck, but to him everything is God's good guidance, which is to lead him to blessedness. The different words are the expression of a different state of mind, a different view of life; that is why there is so much difference in the words, and it is important which one we use. And however good our intentions, still, when we talk of luck, it makes us frivolous or discontented; but if we speak of God's providence, then these words themselves awaken thoughts in us and direct our eyes to God." "Well, yes, Your Reverence," said Uli, "you're about right in that, and I'll bear it in mind." "I hope you will come back here with your bride after the service?" "Very willingly, if you wish it," said Uli; "but I'm afraid we shall keep you from your work." "No one does that," said the pastor; "for it is not only my office, but also my pleasure, to speak on serious occasions a serious word to hearts in which I can hope for good soil that will bear fruit. What the pastor says on such occasions is not so soon forgotten." Meanwhile Freneli had taken off the fur-lined shoes and put on the proper cap, and with her own hands the hostess had fastened on the wreath. It was made in the Langental fashion, she said. "But whatever fashion it is, it's becoming to you," she continued. The bells began to peal and Freneli's heart to beat loudly; her eyes grew fairly dim with dizziness. The hostess brought her aromatic salts, rubbed her temples with something, and said, "You mustn't take it so hard, girlie, we all have to go through with it. But go now in God's name; the pastor doesn't wait long on a Friday; he's a great one for hurrying." Uli took his Freneli by the hand and walked with her toward the church; solemnly the solemn peals echoed in their hearts; for the sexton rang the bells with all his skill, so that the clappers struck on both edges, and not as if they were lame, now on one edge, now on the other. As they came to the churchyard, the grave-digger was just busy at a grave, and it was quiet about him; no sheep, no goat came and desecrated man's last resting-place; for in this village the churchyard was no pasture for unclerical animals. Suddenly an irresistible melancholy came over Freneli. The venerable mound, the digging of the new grave, woke gloomly thoughts. "That's no good omen," she whispered; "they are digging a grave for one of us." Before the church stood a baptismal party, one godmother holding a child on her arm. "That means a child-bed for one of us," whispered Uli, to comfort Freneli.