“As for me, I arrived in Paradise on a day when Hell was open to view, and came to know, thereby, many strange things.  Ah!  That was the hardest part of my story; I trust that you have understood it?”

The narrator’s glance sought the children’s eyes once more; but this time questioningly rather than peremptorily.  When the young lips all cried “yes,” and “of course,” he smiled, nodded his massive head amiably, and continued: 

“That the angels are full of pity, and glad to relieve the misery of the unfortunate, whoever they are, and wherever they may be, goes without saying, and it will not be necessary to tell you how diligently they sought to remember some one good deed that might redound to the credit of one of the lost.  But St. Peter is a mild and just judge, and the gleaning yielded but a small return, for only a few of the angels could recall any act that was worth mentioning.  It was also granted to me to look into the place of torment, and the things I saw there were too awful.  Picture it to yourself as you will!  When I recovered from the horror that fell upon me, I recognized many men and women whom I had known on earth.  Among them were many whom I had been accustomed to consider pious and virtuous, and whom I had expected to find in a high place in Heaven, rather than there below, and yet of those very persons the Elect could recall the fewest deeds that had been done from purely generous motives.  An act was mentioned of this one or that, which on the surface seemed good, sometimes even great,—­but there on high the springs of human actions are open to view, as well as the real end, which the author had in mind, and these were always such that those who had performed the best deeds could be accredited with the least charitable intention.  Their pious works had always been executed in order to make them conspicuous in the eyes of men, or to attain for themselves some distinction, or to flatter their vanity, or to arouse the envy of their neighbours, or to contribute in some indirect way to the increase of their riches.  Perhaps you may not altogether understand what I mean; but no matter, your mother may explain as much as she thinks good for you.

“The poor things who were disappointed, as well as the unfortunate ones for whom no voice was raised, made me very unhappy; but I could do nothing for them.

“Among the latter I noticed a woman whom I had known well on earth, and who deserved to be among the lost, I thought.  I had never anticipated any other sentence for her.  You do not understand, children, what a cold heart is; but hers had been either ice or stone.  Although she had possessed more than was needed to gratify her own wants, she could never be moved by the most touching appeals of the poorest to relieve their distress.  She had used other people to satisfy her selfish desires and then discarded them ruthlessly.  She had gone through life without loving one single soul—­of that I felt convinced—­and no one had loved her, and she had died unregretted.  She must have been as wretched on earth as she was there in Hell; for which of us can be happy here, if we do not love and are not loved?