"I am sick! Ha! ha! ha! I am cursed—cursed!" she cried.
"Keep still; go to sleep," begged Anselmo, frightened. "No one has cursed you."
"But he—my father—oh, I have brought shame and sorrow upon him; but it was not my fault—no, not my fault! Oh, I was so young and innocent. Father said, pray earnestly and often, and so I prayed. Oh, how nice it was in Sitzheim; the church lay upon a hill, hid in ivy, from which a view of the peaceful village could be had. A well was also in the village. Evenings we young girls used to go there to get water, and then—then he went past. How he frowned. He wore a black coat, and the bald spot on his shaved head shone like ivory. When he came near, we made the sign of the cross. We must honor the embassadors of God!"
The dying woman with trembling hands made the sign of the cross, and Anselmo groaned and moaned.
"I had not yet gone to confession," continued the delirious woman; "my father used to laugh at me and say: 'Stay at home, little Jane, you haven't any sins to confess yet.' I stayed. I was only sixteen. But one day as I was sitting in front of our door the man addressed me.
"'Why do you not come to confession?' he asked sternly.
"'Because my father said I was too young, and have no sins to confess.'
"'We are all sinners in God,' he earnestly replied. 'Do not forget that you will be eternally damned if you do not confess.'
"I got frightened; no, I did not wish to be damned, and so I went secretly to confession. He always gave me absolution and I was happy. He sometimes met me when I went walking, and was always very friendly to me."