It has sinned enough to suffice for a long life, enough to merit
damnation."

"Then for such a sin there is no name among men."

"There is a name for it, terrible and accursed--the murder of a sister."

"Merciful God!--I will not hearken to you."

"Why do you ask me, then? I have told nobody. Go home, my lady, you
cannot buy the mercy of God for money."

"And yet there must be something in it. He is repeatedly mentioning his
sister's name. And--oh! what a look he has at such times!"

"I know it. His groaning can be heard outside in the street. If a poor
man's child wailed like that they would pitch it down a well."

"Speak! How and where did it take place?"

"The children were playing outside, close to the pond, I was on the
opposite side plucking healing plants. Suddenly the two children caught
sight of a pretty flower on a high rock. They both hastened to the spot
to pluck it. The girl was the quicker, and got there first, and when she
had plucked the flower the lad began to quarrel with her, and as they
struggled the little girl fell off the rock, her head struck against the
hard root of a tree, and she remained motionless on the spot. All pale
and frightened little Cain stood beside her, and gazed stupidly at the
blood flowing from his sister's forehead. He saw that he had killed his
sister, and in vain he begged and prayed her to awake again, in vain he
pulled her about. Then he began to cry like one who is desperate, and
ran towards the lake. I saw him gazing into the water, and he gazed into
it for a long time, perhaps he thought of drowning himself. He shrank
back from the face that stared at him from the surface of the water, his
own distorted face. Slowly he crept back again, his face was as white as
death, and his lips were blue. He gazed around him in every direction to
see if anybody was looking. Then he suddenly put his arms round the
lifeless body, and with a strength incredible in one so young he dragged
it to a ditch which was thickly overgrown with bushes, and covered it
over with leaves and branches. There was still some life in the little
girl, for when the lad began stamping down the heaped-up leaves with his
feet, she groaned aloud and said: 'Oh, Neddy, Neddy, don't bury me. Emma
won't cry. Emma won't tell mamma!'"

"Oh! my poor little girl!"

"On hearing these words the boy took to his heels--he ran and ran till
he fell down senseless in the wood. There some swine-herds found him as
the