Jean-Christophe was comforted. Then, when he thought that he would never see his beloved grandfather again, he wept once more bitterly.
"Poor little beast!" said Gottfried, looking pityingly at the child.
Jean-Christophe expected Gottfried to console him, but Gottfried made no attempt to do so, knowing that it was useless.
"Uncle Gottfried," asked the boy, "are not you afraid of it, too?"
(Much did he wish that Gottfried should not have been afraid, and would tell him the secret of it!)
"'Ssh!" he said, in a troubled voice….
"And how is one not to be afraid?" he said, after a moment. "But what can one do? It is so. One must put up with it."
Jean-Christophe shook his head in protest.
"One has to put up with it, my boy," said Gottfried. "He ordered it up yonder. One has to love what He has ordered."
"I hate Him!" said Jean-Christophe, angrily shaking his fist at the sky.