On the Cross: A Romance of the Passion Play at Oberammergau

by Wilhelmine von Hillern

"Yes."

"Then tell me--are you really married to Freyer?"

"Yes!"

"So the farce must end tragically!" murmured the duke. "I cannot, will not believe it--it is too shocking that a woman like you should be ruined by the Ammergau farce."

"Not by that; by the presumption with which I sought to draw the deity down to me. Oh, it is a hard punishment. I prayed so fervently to God and, instead of His face, He showed me a mask and then left me to atone for the deception by the repentance of a whole life."

"Ah, can you really believe that the Highest Wisdom would have played so cruel a masquerade with you? Why should you be so terribly punished? No, ma chère amie, God has neither deceived nor wished to punish you. He showed Himself in response to your longing, or rather your longing made you imagine that you saw Him--and had you been content with that, you would have returned home happy with the vision of your God in your heart, like thousands who were elevated by the Passion Play. But you wanted more; you possess a sensuous religious nature, which cannot separate the essence from the appearance and, after having seen, you desired to possess Him in the precise form in which He appeared to you! Had it depended upon you, you would have robbed the world of its God! Fortunately, it was only Herr Freyer whom you stole, and now that you perceive your error you accuse God of having deceived you. You talk constantly of your faith in God, and yet have so poor an opinion of Him? What had God to do with your imagining that the poor actor in the Passion Play, who wore His mask, must be Himself, and therefore wedded him!"

The countess made no reply. This was the tone which she could never endure. He was everything to her--her sole confidant and counselor--but he could not comprehend what she had experienced during the Passion Play.

"I am once more the dry sceptic who so often angered you, am I not?" said the Prince, whose keen observation let nothing escape. "But I flatter myself that you will be more ready to view matters from a sober standpoint after having convinced yourself of the dangers of intercourse with 'phantoms' and demi-gods, who lure their victims into devious paths where they are liable morally to break their necks."

The countess could not help smiling sorrowfully. "You are incorrigible!"

"Well, we must take things as they are. As you will not confess that you--pardon the frankness--have committed a folly and ruined your life for the sake of a fanciful whim, the caprice must be elevated to the rank of a 'dispensation of Providence,' and the inactive endurance of its consequences a meritorious martyrdom. But I do not believe that God is guilty either of your marriage or of your self-constituted martyrdom, and therefore I tell you that I do not regard your marriage, to use the common parlance, one of those 'made in Heaven'--in other words, an indissoluble one."