There was silence for a moment, till she said—“Thou hast learnt well, and hast been an obedient boy. In the years that lie before thee, thou mayest have cause to thank God for it. My questions are done: thou mayest ask thine.”
“Then, Mother, who am I?” was the eager inquiry. “Thou art Rudolph, son of Gerhardt of Mainz, and of Agnes his wife, who both gave their lives for the Lord Christ’s sake, fourteen years ago.”
“Mother!—were my real parents martyrs?”
“That is the word which is written after their names in the Lamb’s Book of Life. But in the books written by men the word is different.”
“What is that word, then, Mother?”
“Rudolph, canst thou bear to hear it? The word is—‘heretic’.”
“But those are wicked people, who are called heretics!”
“I think it depends on who uses the word.”
Rudolph sat an instant in blank silence.
“Then what did my father believe that was so wrong?”