"But the proofs, my lord? The proofs are there. If you do not find them sufficient to convict this man, whom can you accuse of the murder?"
Then the lord, taking Crondas's hand, cried loudly:
"Whom can I accuse? Perhaps you, Crondas, for there is blood upon your hand. At the very moment when you pretended to be full of horror for the crime of murder, you killed for mere pleasure this poor little creature, which had lighted unsuspectingly upon your hand, but which the peasant, unjustly condemned, had spared, when his own death stared him in the face."
Then, seizing Crondas, and looking sternly and fixedly at the cowering fellow, the lord thundered:
"Now, confess your sin!"
Crondas grew more ghastly than before and, trying to control his voice, faltered out:
"I confess. Have mercy, my lord! I killed your brother because he threatened to tell you of my dishonesty toward you. I took his purse and ring, and hid them in this man's house, to make you think it was he who had sinned. I am the guilty one. Do with me as you will. Punish me in his place."
The lord did as Crondas had said, and the murderer suffered for his sin instead of the peasant, who was made steward in Crondas's place. No one pleaded for the guilty man's life, for he had been hard and cruel, and no man was his friend.
Now all the people of the country felt the good God himself had sent the little red lady-bug that it might teach the lord to administer justice. Since then everyone who sees such an insect takes care not to hurt it, and says:
"That is the insect beloved of God. Perhaps it is on its way now to help someone. I would not harm it, for my hand would be stained with blood."