“Yes, Maria.”
“Will you help them, you mediator?”
“Yes, Maria.”
She opened her eyes and turned the gentle wonder of their blue towards him. Bending low above her, he saw, in pious astonishment, how the gay-coloured heavenly kingdom of saintly legends, which looked down upon her from out the lofty, narrow church-windows, was reflected in her Madonna-eyes.
Involuntarily he raised his eyes to become aware, for the first time, of whither he had borne the girl whom he loved.
“God is looking at us!” he whispered, gathering her up to his heart, with longing arms. “God is smiling to us, Maria.”
“Amen,” said the girl at his heart.
CHAPTER XXV
Joh Fredersen came to his mother’s house.
Death had passed over Metropolis. Destruction of the world and the Day of Judgment had shouted from out the roars of explosion, the clanging of the bells of the cathedral. But Joh Fredersen found his mother as he always found her: in the wide, soft chair, by the open window, the dark rug over the paralysed knees, the great Bible on the sloping table before her, in the beautiful old hands, the figured lace at which she was sewing.