"Come, tell us the story, dear grandfather," said Justus; "it will doubtless edify our guest; and, as for me, I do not object to be mystified now and then."
"Justus, Justus, lay aside that scoffing mask. You put it on, I know, to look like another Mephistopheles, but you don't succeed."
"Don't I?" returned Justus, with a smile. "Well, grandfather, that ought to be a comfort to you."
"No, you don't, so you may as well give up trying. But come, if you would really like to hear the story" (the fact was, that the good man was anxious to tell it, and feared to lose the opportunity), "I shall be happy to please you. I think, however, we shall be better out of doors. Let us go and take our wine under the great plane-tree. You had as well bring your chair with you, my young friend" (this was addressed to me), "for the bench is somewhat hard. And Trinchen, my girl, put glasses on a tray, and some bottles of wine in a pail, and bring them out to us under the great plane-tree. And you, Justus, my boy, be kind enough to transport thither this big chair of mine, like a dutiful grandson and a stout, as you are."
We were soon established in the pleasant shade. The pastor took an easy posture in his chair, when, after many efforts, Justus had coaxed it into touching the ground with all its four legs at once; I straddled across the seat of mine, and, placing my arms on the back, reposed the bowl of my long pipe on the ground; and Justus, with his cigar in his mouth--the twentieth, or thereby, that day--threw himself down on the turf at a convenient distance from the wine-pail, prepared to replenish our glasses, as need might be. Noble glasses they were, tall and green, with stalks to be grasped, not fingered.
"It is now nearly sixty years ago," began the pastor, when our arrangements were complete, "a long time--a long time, indeed, to bear the staff of one's pilgrimage. I was then in my third year at the university, and was something like what you are now, Justus--a merry, idle, and thoughtless student, but not a very bad boy either."
"Thank you, grandfather," said Justus; "however, that accounts for your being the man you are at your years."
"No, it does not," said the old man, smiling; "but let me tell my story, my boy, without interrupting me--at least, unless you have something better to say than that. As I was saying, I was in my third year, and, of course, I had many acquaintances. I had, however, only two friends. One was a countryman of yours, young gentleman, and his name was Macdonald. The name of the other was Laurenberg."