"Hail Mary!" Cilia's prayer began like that. He did not know any more, but he repeated the words many times. And now he smelt the incense again, which had filled the whole church with perfume, heard again the little bell announcing the transubstantiation, saw the Lord's anointed with the splendid stole over his chasuble bow first to the left of the altar, then to the right. Oh, how he envied the boys in their white surplices, who were allowed to kneel near him. Blessed harmonies floated under the high, arched dome:
"Procedenti ab utroque
Compar sit laudatio----"
They had sung something like that. And then the priest had raised the gleaming monstrance on high, and all the people had bowed deeply: Qui vivis et regnas in sæcula sæculorum. Yes, he had remembered that Latin well. He would never forget it all his life.
Cilia had had to nudge him and whisper: "Come, we're going now," otherwise he would have remained kneeling much longer in the magnificent and still cosy church, in which nothing was cold and strange.
If only he could go there again. Cilia had certainly promised to take him if she found an opportunity--but now she was to go away, and the opportunity would never come. What a pity. He was filled with a great regret and defiance at the same time; no, he would not go to the church his mother went to, and where the boys from his school went.
And he whispered again, "Hail, Mary!" and the hot and angry tears that had been running down his cheeks ceased as he whispered it.
He had climbed out of his bed, and was kneeling by the side of it on the carpet, his clasped hands raised in prayer, as he had seen the angels do in the altar-piece. His eyes sparkled and were wide open, his defiance melted into fervour.
When he at last got into bed again, and his excessive fatigue had calmed his agitation and he had fallen asleep, he dreamt of the beautiful Virgin Mary, whose features were well known to him, and he felt his heart burn for her.
* * * * * * * * * * * * */p>
It was a fortnight later, the first of October, that Cilla left her situation. Käte had given her a good character; it was still not clear to the girl why she had been dismissed, even when she stood in the street. The lady wanted an older, more experienced maid--that was what she had said--but Cilia did not quite believe that, she felt vaguely that there was another reason: she simply did not like her. She would go home for a short time before taking another situation, she felt homesick, and it had been difficult for her to leave the place--on account of the boy. How he had cried, even yesterday evening. He had hung on her neck and kissed her many times like a little child, that big boy. And there was so much he still wanted to say to her. They had been standing together upstairs in the dark passage, and then the mistress's step as she came up the stairs had driven them away; he was just able to escape to his room.