u see, my dear
father--the king's physician has surely told you what a good man he
was--But I'm beginning at the wrong end; I wanted to tell it to you
differently.--Well, as I was going to say, I went to school to a very
strict priest who condemned all people that didn't belong to our faith,
to the lowest depths of hell. I was once telling my father about it,
when he said: 'Purgei,'--he always called me Purgei when he wanted to
speak right to my heart--'Purgei,' said he, 'there are many millions of
people in the world, and the smallest portion of them are Christians,
and what a vile God it would be who would condemn all the rest to hell
just because they aren't Christians, when they can't help it, and were
born as they are. Don't you believe,' said he, 'that a man's damned for
his faith; as long as he's virtuous.' Well, I hold fast by that. Of
course, I didn't say anything to the priest about it, for he needn't
know everything. I'm sure he don't tell me all he knows."

The queen was silent, and Walpurga soon began again:

"And now I think of something, better than all. Oh, my dear queen, I
must tell you this, too. It's about my father, who used to think a
great deal. The old doctor, the father of the one who's living there
now, often used to say that if father had studied he'd have become a
great man. Well, one evening, on the very Sunday that I was confirmed,
I was sitting with father and mother on the bench behind our little
cottage by the lake. The evening bells were tolling; we had said our
aves and were sitting about in front of the cottage, when we heard the
Liederkranz. They were coming across the lake in a boat, and were
singing so beautifully--I can't tell you how lovely their singing was.
And then father got up from his seat, his face glowing in the sunshine,
and said: 'Now I know how our Lord in heaven must feel.' 'Don't
blaspheme,' said my mother. 'I'm not blaspheming; quite the reverse,'
said father. His voice seemed wondrous strange. 'Yes, I know it, I feel
it,' said he; 'all churches--our own, the Protestant, the Jewish, the
Turkish, and whatever their names may be--every one of them has a part
in the song, and though each sings as best he can, they go together
very well, and make a chorus that must sound glorious up there in
heaven. Let every one sing according to the voice God has given him,
for He will know how it will harmonize, and it surely does harmonize
beautifully.'"

Walpurga's beaming glance