“The poor mother only lingered a day or two afterwards, and was borne to the grave at the same time as the unfortunate Gotliebe.
“Gretchen never knew, or would not say, more than I have repeated of what had occurred at the altar of the Crucifix. It was unplundered!
“The people, however, all said that God, who had borne the insults and profanation directed against himself at the high altar, had interposed when the virtue of a pure virgin was threatened, and had himself, by the hand of his image, smitten the would-be violator dead, leaving the distorted arm as an admonition for ever.”
We were both silent after this recital, and for some moments toyed with the fragments of our breakfast.
At length, raising my head, I asked: “And you, father—do you believe this tale?”
A sweet, soft smile hovered about his lips, as he replied: “Nothing in which the goodness of God is instanced is hard for me to believe! He is less ready to show his anger, so that, though we live in the midst of his wonders, we have got so used to them that it is said that there are those who deny his existence.”
This was said as if to himself. Then, speaking more collectedly, he continued:
“You English would rather believe in ghosts and devils than in the good God. Whence do you suppose they derive their existence and their power?”
I assured him that I was of the same faith as himself, and only asked because I wished to have the opinion of a cultivated man on the subject of this particular legend, which had greatly interested me, and of which there remained so singular an evidence.
After a moment’s pause, he said: