P. 38. 'Is crowned with thorns.' Cf. Lib. I. section 5, for this
anecdote and her defence, which I have in like manner paraphrased.

P. 39. 'Their pardon.' Cf. Lib. I section 3, for this quaint
method of self-humiliation.

Ibid. 'You know your place.' Cf. Lib. I. section 6. 'The vassals
and relations of her betrothed persecuted her openly, and plotted to
send her back to her father divorced. . . . Sophia also did all she
could to place her in a convent. . . . She delighted in the company
of maids and servants, so that Sophia used to say sneeringly to her,
"You should have been counted among the slaves who drudge, and not
among the princes who rule."'

P. 41. 'Childish laughter.' Cf. Lib. I. section 7. 'The holy
maiden, receiving the mirror, showed her joy by delighted laughter;'
and again, II. section 8, "They loved each other in the charity of
the Lord, to a degree beyond all belief.'

Ibid. 'A crystal clear.' Cf. Lib. I. section 7.

P. 43. 'Our fairest bride.' Cf. Lib. I. section 8. 'No one
henceforth dared oppose the marriage by word or plot, . . . and all
mouths were stopped.'

NOTES TO ACT II

Pp. 45-49. Cf. Lib. II. sections 1, 5, 11, et passim.

Hitherto my notes have been a careful selection of the few grains of
characteristic fact which I could find among Dietrich's lengthy
professional reflections; but the chapter on which this scene is
founded is remarkable enough to be given whole, and as I have a
long-standing friendship for the good old monk, who is full of
honest naivete and deep-hearted sympathy, and have no wish to
disgust _all_ my readers with him, I shall give it for the most part
untranslated. In the meantime those who may be shocked at certain
expressions in this poem, borrowed from the Romish devotional
school, may verify my language at the Romish booksellers, who find
just now a rapidly increasing sale for such ware. And is it not
after all a hopeful sign for the age that even the most questionable
literary tastes must nowadays ally themselves with religion--that
the hotbed imaginations which used to batten on Rousseau and Byron
have now risen at least as high as the Vies des Saints and St.
Francois de Sales' Philothea? The truth is, that in such a time as
this, in the dawn of an age of faith, whose future magnificence we
may surely prognosticate from the slowness and complexity of its
self-developing process, spiritual 'Werterism,' among other strange
prol