condemn her favorite son, because
he labored to earn peace for his soul by a deed--by a work for which his
master might envy him?"

"I have indeed observed," interrupted Dorothea, "that Sirona's image
has bewitched you, and you speak as if the boy had achieved some great
miracle. I do not know much about modelling and sculpture, and I will
not contradict you, but if the fair-haired creature's face were less
pretty, and if Polykarp had not executed any thing remarkable, would it
have made the smallest difference in what he has done and felt wrong?
Certainly not. But that is just like men, they care only for success."

"And with perfect justice," answered Petrus, "if the success is
attained, not in mere child's play, but by a severe struggle. 'To him,
that hath, shall more be given,' says the scripture, and he who has
a soul more richly graced than others have--he who is helped by good
spirits--he shall be forgiven many things that even a mild judge would
be unwilling to pardon in a man of poor gifts, who torments and exerts
himself and yet brings nothing to perfection. Be kind to the boy again.
Do you know what prospect lies before you through him? You yourself in
your life have done much good, and spoken much wisdom, and I, and the
children, and the people in this place, will never forget it all. But
I can promise you the gratitude of the best and noblest who now live
or who will live in centuries to come--for that you are the mother of
Polykarp!"

"And people say," cried Dorothea, "that every mother has four eyes for
her children's merits. If that is true, then fathers no doubt have ten,
and you as many as Argus, of whom the heathen legend speaks--But there
comes Polykarp."

Petrus went forward to meet his son, and gave him his hand, but in quite
a different manner to what he had formerly shown; at least it seemed to
Dorothea that her husband received the youth, no longer as his father
and master, but as a friend greets a friend who is his equal in
privileges and judgment. When Polykarp turned to greet her also she
colored all over, for the thought flashed through her mind that her son,
when he thought of the past night, must regard her as unjust or foolish;
but she soon recovered her own calm equanimity, for Polykarp was the
same as ever, and she read in his eyes that he felt towards her the same
as yesterday and as ever.

"Love," thought she, "is not extinguished by injustice, as fire is by
water. It blazes up