hed my own daughter in the garments belonging to my
master's daughter, in order to save the royal child from death, I gave
up my own child to danger, and carried my master's child to a place of
safety. My own child I gave up to play the role of king's daughter, when
kings and their offspring were hunted down like wild beasts; and made of
the king's daughter a servant, that she might be allowed to go free. I
counterfeited certificates of baptism, registers, passports, in order to
save the king's daughter from her enemies. I bore false
witness--committed perjury in order to hide her from her persecutors--'"

"Yes--yes," moaned the dying man, "all that have I done."

"And do you imagine that you will be allowed to breathe such a
confession into a human ear?" sternly responded the count.

"I must--I must--to make my peace with God."

"Henry, if you knew God as He is you would not tremble before him. If
you could realize the immeasurable greatness of His benevolence, His
love, His mercy, you would not be afraid to appear before Him with the
plea: 'Master, Thou sentest me forth; Thou hast summoned me to return. I
came from Thee; to Thee I return. And all that which has happened to me
between my going and my coming Thou knowest.'"

"Ah, yes, Herr Count, you have a great soul. It will know how to rise to
its Creator. But what can my poor, ignorant little soul do when it
leaves my body? It will not be able to find its way to God. I am afraid;
I tremble. Oh, my sins, my sins!"

"Your sins are imaginary, Henry," almost irritably responded Count
Vavel. "I swear to you, by the peace of my own soul, that the load
beneath which you groan is not sin, but virtue. If it be true that human
speech and thought are transmitted to the other world, and if there is a
voice that questions us, and a countenance that looks upon us, then
answer with confidence: 'Yes, I have transgressed many of Thy laws; but
all my transgressions were committed to save one of Thy angels.'"

"Ah, yes, Herr Count, if I could talk like that; but I can't."

"And are not all your thoughts already known to Him who reads all
hearts? It does not require the absolution of a priest to admit you to
His paradise."

But Henry refused to be comforted; his eyes burned with the fire of
terror as he moaned again and again:

"I shall be damned! I shall be damned!"

Count Vavel now lost all patience, and, forgetting himself in his anger,
exclaimed:

"Henry, if you persi