A figure clad in black, with a low broad-brimmed hat and white neck-tie, approached the churchyard from the parsonage. It was doubtless his father's successor, the new Pastor, who had returned from examining the school earlier than the sexton's wife expected, and come in search of the stranger who had inquired for him, and then ordered the church to be unlocked. In his present excited frame of mind Gotthold would gladly have avoided this meeting; but the reverend gentleman appeared to have seen him already, for he quickened his steps, and, as Gotthold now approached him, held out both hands, exclaiming: "Must we meet again under such sorrowful circumstances?" Gotthold cast a puzzled glance at the beardless, plump white face of the man who now stood before him, clasping and pressing his hands; his watery blue eyes winking perpetually, either from emotion or because the setting sun was shining into them. "Don't you know me, my dear brother?" asked the reverend gentleman; "didn't they tell you my name? August Semmel--" "Surnamed Kloss,"[1] said Gotthold with an involuntary laugh. "I beg your pardon, I really had not heard your name, and then I have never seen you lately except in uniform, with a military cap on one side of your head, and your face covered with a beard; it is really an excellent mask." Pastor Semmel dropped Gotthold's hands and hastily turned away, so that he placed himself in shadow. "A mask," he said, rolling up his eyes piously; "yes indeed! and, as I now think, a very vain, not to say sinful one. I often scolded you then because you would not enter our corps, although you sometimes did not disdain to go to an ale--to amuse yourself with us, I mean; now I envy you for having had the power of self-renunciation I lacked." "So Saul has now become Paul," replied Gotthold smiling, "while my journey to Damascus is still delayed." "Yes, yes," said the Pastor. "Who would have thought it! The most industrious of us all at school, the most indefatigable at the university; always held up as a pattern by teachers and professors; when in the fourth session already cram--preparing us older ones for the examination, passing your own with great distinction, and all this--" "For Hecuba! No, dear Semmel, you must not revile my art, although I freely admit I am but a poor artist as yet. But I can assure you of one thing: it is easier to pass a creditable examination in theology than to paint a good picture. I speak from experience; besides if I had remained a theological student, who knows whether the son might not have stepped into his father's place instead of you? That is to be considered too."