Her dear Lord, her sorrow knowing.
Came to light her gloom.
She saw His glorious countenance."
Her clear voice sounded jubilant as it rose into the blue sky. It was spring, spring. The fresh grass was sprouting near the broad ditch, the corn that had been kept warm under the snow was now green and thick. Christ was risen and therefore the earth rejoiced.
Rosa took out of her pocket the paper on which she, during the winter, had noted down all she had to confess. She had examined her conscience most carefully; it was a long, long piece of paper, with many sins written on it. But she had got rid of them all now, and that was why she felt so happy. Now she could tear it to pieces.
She stood still, and tearing the paper into shreds threw them high into the air. Off they flew. How the wind carried them away, higher and higher, as high as the lark which was hovering up there. They were flying to God.
Rosa mingled her song with the lark's trills, in joyous, jerky rhythm.
"The stone was rolled away
As to the grave they came.
At its right side in raiment bright
An angel sat and calmed their fright. Hallelujah."
It was no longer the same shrill, piping child's voice; it was a girl's voice now, full and pleasing. When there was any singing going on in the school, the master always told Rosa Tiralla to stand up first so as to lead the others. She liked doing that. Mr. Böhnke was altogether very good to her, and it would grieve her to leave school. She would soon be fourteen, and then she wouldn't do any more lessons; then--a strange, dreamy look came into her eyes--oh, no, she wasn't going to marry like other girls and have children--no. Her face, that had all at once clouded over, grew bright again; she was to be the Bride of the Church, her mother had said so. Mr. Böhnke said so as well, and the priest said so. And they praised her for it. And Marianna stared at her, "Oh, a nun! That's something very beautiful, something very grand, oh!" And Jendrek almost looked upon her as a saint already. Everybody looked at her in quite a different way now from what they used to do when she was nothing but little Rosa Tiralla. Only her daddy wouldn't hear of it--poor daddy. What a pity it was that he was so wicked. A look full of deep thought cast a sudden gloom over the young face that had just been so bright. Was her mother right? Would it have been better for him never to have been born?