"She is there," said Nela positively, and looking back towards the spot she had left.
"And you thought you would go to her. Is that it? That is to say, you meant to kill yourself."
"Yes, Señor, that is it."
"And do you not know that your mother committed a great sin in killing herself, and you would do the same if you followed her example? Were you never taught that?"
"I do not think anyone ever told me anything of the kind. And if I want to kill myself, who is to prevent me?"
"But you yourself—without being told—cannot you feel that God cannot be pleased with us for getting rid of our lives? Poor child—left to your own instincts without any teaching, or religion, or loving and disinterested guidance!—What ideas can you have of God, of a future life, of death? What makes you fancy your mother is there? Do you call a few lifeless bones your mother! Can you believe that she is still alive, thinking of you and loving you down in that pit? Did no one ever tell you that when once our souls have left our bodies they never return to them again? Do you not know that a tomb, a grave, whatever it may be, never contains anything but dust and foul corruption? What do you think God is like? Like some grand and solemn man who sits above us with his arms folded, and who allows us to play with our lives, while, in His place, we see some sprite, hobgoblin or fetich of our fancy?—Your master, Nela, who is so wise and good, did he never talk to you about such things?"
"Oh! yes he did.—But it is of no use to tell me them now...."
"Of no use now—when you want to kill yourself? Tell me, silly child, did you think that by throwing yourself into that hole you would be any better off?"
"Yes, Señor."
"In what way?"