She sighed deeply and stopped.
"He surely didn't torture you with bigoted speeches?" asked Berger. "I know him. Father Rohn is a worthy man who knows life; he is a human being ..."
"Of course! But just because he is no hypocrite he could say nothing that would really comfort me for this life. At most for that other life, which perhaps--no certainly!" she said hurriedly. "So many people believe in it, good earnest men who have seen and suffered much misfortune, how should a simple girl dare to doubt it? Certainly, Dr. Berger, when I think of my own life and my mother's life, it is not easy to believe in an all-just, all-merciful God. But I do believe in Him--yes! though so good a man as Father Rohn could only say: amends will be made up there. Only the way he said it fully convinced me! But, after all, he could only give me hope in death, not hope for life."
"Certainly against his will," cried Berger. "You did not want to understand him."
"Yes, Dr. Berger, I did want to understand him and understood him--in everything--excepting only one thing," she added hesitatingly. "But that was not in my power--I could not! And whatever trouble he took it was in vain."
"And what was this one thing?"
"He asked me if there was no one I was attached to, who loved me, to whom my life or death mattered? No, I answered, nobody--and then he asked--but why touch upon the hateful subject! let us leave it alone, Dr. Berger."
"No," cried Berger, white with emotion, "I implore you, let us talk about it. He asked you whether you did not know your father."
She nodded; a faint red overspread her pale cheeks.
"And you answered?"