llowed by many more. Who might be weeping for Inge? Had
she not still a mother in the world? The tears of sorrow which a
mother weeps for her child always make their way to the child; but
they do not relieve it, they only increase its torment. And now to
bear this unendurable hunger, and yet not to be able to touch the loaf
on which she stood! She felt as if she had been feeding on herself,
and had become like a thin, hollow reed that takes in every sound, for
she heard everything that was said of her up in the world, and all
that she heard was hard and evil. Her mother, indeed, wept much and
sorrowed for her, but for all that she said, "A haughty spirit goes
before a fall. That was thy ruin, Inge. Thou hast sorely grieved thy
mother."

Her mother and all on earth knew of the sin she had committed; knew
that she had trodden upon the loaf, and had sunk and disappeared; for
the cowherd had seen it from the hill beside the moor.

"Greatly hast thou grieved thy mother, Inge," said the mother; "yes,
yes, I thought it would be thus."

"Oh that I never had been born!" thought Inge; "it would have been far
better. But what use is my mother's weeping now?"

And she heard how her master and mistress, who had kept and cherished
her like kind parents, now said she was a sinful child, and did not
value the gifts of God, but trampled them under her feet, and that the
gates of mercy would only open slowly to her.

"They should have punished me," thought Inge, "and have driven out the
whims I had in my head."

She heard how a complete song was made about her, a song of the proud
girl who trod upon the loaf to keep her shoes clean, and she heard how
the song was sung everywhere.

"That I should have to bear so much evil for this!" thought Inge; "the
others ought to be punished, too, for their sins. Yes, then there
would be plenty of punishing to do. Ah, how I'm being tortured!" And
her heart became harder than her outward form.

"Here in this company one can't even become better," she said, "and I
don't want to become better! Look, how they're all staring at me!"

And her heart was full of anger and malice against all men. "Now
they've something to talk about at last up yonder. Ah, how I'm being
tortured!"

And then she heard how her story was told to the little children, and
the little ones called her the godless Inge, and said she was so
naughty and ugly that she must be well punished.

Thus, even the children's mouths s