"For, my dear Mrs. Nuessler," she said, "the
clerk has a gown exactly the same as that, but he dar'n't wear bands,
and when I see my pastor in the pulpit with these signs of his office
on, and watch them rising and falling as he speaks, I sometimes think
that they look like angels' wings upon which one might go straight away
up to heaven, except that the angels wear their wings behind, and my
pastor's are in front."
The parson was not an angel by any means, and was the last man in the
world to think himself one, but still his conduct was so upright, and
his face so expressive of love and good-will, that any one could see in
a moment that he was a good man, and that his was a serious, thoughtful
mode of life, and yet--when his wife had taken off his gown and
bands--there was a bright sparkle in his eye that showed he did not at
all disdain innocent mirth. He was a man who could give good counsel in
worldly matters as well as in spiritual, and he was always ready to
stretch out a helping hand to those in need of it.
He recognized Hawermann the moment he saw him, and welcomed him
heartily. "How d'ye do, dear old friend, what an age it is since I saw
you last. How are you getting on? Good morning, Mr. Braesig." Just as
Braesig was about to explain the reason of his and Hawermann's visit,
Mrs. Behrens, who had begun to take off her husband's clerical garments,
called out: "Don't speak, Mr.
Pages:
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403