At this Ann sobbed aloud and wrung her hands, crying:  “But he cast me off, sold me for gold and silver.  Can I, whom he has flung into the dust, seek to go after him?  Would it beseem an honest and shamefaced maid if I called him back to me?  He is happy—­and he will still be happy for many long, long years amid his reckless companions; if the time should ever come of which you speak, most worshipful lady, even then he will care no more for Ann, bloomless and faded, than for the threadbare bravery in which he once arrayed himself.  As for me and my love, warmly as it will ever glow in my breast, so long as I live and breathe, he will never need it in the life of pleasure in which he suns himself.  It is no vain imagining that I have made my goal, and if I am to bring joy to the wretched I must seek others than he.”

“Right well,” said my aunt, “if so be that your love is no worthier nor better than his.”

And from the unhappy maid’s bosom the words were gasped out:  “It is verily and indeed true and worthy and deep; never was truer love . . .”

“Never?” replied my aunt, looking at her enquiringly.  “Have you not read of the love of which the Scripture speaketh?  Love which is able and ready to endure all things.”

And the words of the Apostle came into my mind which the Carthusian sister had graven on our memories, burning them in, as it were, as being those which above all others should live in every Christian woman’s heart; and whereas I had hitherto held back as beseemed me, I now came forward and said them with all the devout fervor of my young heart, as follows:  “Charity suffereth long and is kind; Charity envieth not; Charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up; seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.”

While I spoke Ann, panting for breath, fixed her eyes on the ground, but my aunt rehearsed the words after me in a clear voice:  “beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth and endureth all things.”  And she added right earnestly; therefore do thou believe and hope and endure yet longer, my poor child, and tell me in all truth:  Does it seem to you a lesser deed to lead back the sinner into the way of righteousness and bliss in this world and the next, than to give alms to the beggar?”

Ann shook her head, and my aunt went on:  “And if there is any one—­let me repeat it—­who by faithful love may ever rescue Herdegen, albeit he is half lost, it is you.  Come, come,” and she signed to her, and Ann did her bidding and fell on her knees by her, as she had done erewhile in the forest-lodge.  The elder lady kissed her hair and eyes, and said further:  “Cling fast to your love, my darling.  You have nothing else than love, and without it life is shallow indeed, is sheer emptiness.  You will never find it in the Magister’s arms, and that your heart is of a certainty, not set on marrying a well-to-do man at any cost . . . .”