"Who?" responded the god-child; "The chief of the brigands."
"My poor little innocent," said the saint, "you know not what you ask! Come in yourself; but heaven was not made for such as he."
The child sat down by the door resolved not to enter, and planning in his little head all sorts of schemes to accomplish his purpose, when the Blessed Mary passed that way.
"Why do you not enter, my angel?" she said.
"I would be ungrateful," he answered, "to partake of heavenly joys if my good god-father did not share them with me."
St. Peter interposed, and appealed to the Holy Mother, saying,
"If he had only been a wax-carrier! but this man, Satan's own emissary—impossible! An incarnate demon; a robber, healthy and robust, who has taken every opportunity to do mischief! Holy Mother! could such a thing be thought of?"
But the god-child insisted, bent his pretty blonde head, joined his little hands, fell on his knees, prayed and wept. The Virgin had compassion on him and bringing a golden chalice from the heavenly inclosure, said,
"Take this; go and seek your god-father; tell him that he may come with you to heaven; but he must first fill this cup with repentant tears."
Just then, by the clear moonlight, reposing on a rock, and fully armed, lay the brigand. In his dream his dagger trembled in his hands. As he awoke, he saw near his couch a beautiful winged infant. With no fear of the savage man, it approached and presented the golden chalice. He rubbed his eyes, and thought he still dreamed; but the infant angel reassured him, saying,