But the child understood him not. He thought only of his earthly taskmaster, and in the face upturned to the monk was nothing but thankless discontent and wonder. Father Gottlieb was gazing upward, where high up in the dazzling blue air the builders were toiling at the soaring spire of the church, and raising his hand and pointing heavenwards, he asked,—
“What dost thou see there, my child?”
Then the child looked, and made answer,—
“I see the builders busy at their work.”
But the monk answered and said,—
“I see the smiling of the Master’s face.”
Then the bells began to sound forth the Angelus, and the monk went back to the monastery, for he had his appointed work to do, and might not linger longer. And the child took up his task again.
Night by night as the child lay upon his rude bed he thought of the father’s words, but he comprehended them not, for his heart was full of bitterness because of the hardness of his own lot, and the thankless toil which he had grown to hate.
“The master is not kind,” he cried aloud. “He is a hard taskmaster. He chides me oft. I never see a smile upon his face. I will no more of his service. To-morrow I will go forth into the wide world, and find fresh paths to walk in. I will no longer serve. I will be mine own master.”
For the child thought only of an earthly master, and knew not that he was set in the world to serve the Master in the heavens as well.