cross," explained the wheelwright.

For a moment the Herr Pastor's face had clouded, but now it cleared
again.

"Well, well, why not? Elsa would have been better in some respects,
but Hedwig--ah, yes, she, too, is a good girl a little wild
perhaps--it will wear off. Have you spoken with her?"

"Not yet."

"But you will?"

Again there fell that troubled look into those dreamy eyes. This time
it was Ulrich who, laying aside his pipe, rested his great arms upon
the wooden table.

"Now, how does a man know when he is in love?" asked Ulrich of the
Pastor who, having been married twice, should surely be experienced
upon the point. "How should he be sure that it is this woman and no
other to whom his heart has gone out?"

A commonplace-looking man was the Herr Pastor, short and fat and bald.
But there had been other days, and these had left to him a voice that
still was young; and the evening twilight screening the seared face,
Ulrich heard but the pastor's voice, which was the voice of a boy.

"She will be dearer to you than yourself. Thinking of her, all else
will be as nothing. For her you would lay down your life."