“Why have you not become a Christian yourself?  Forgive the question.  Surely you are one at heart.”

“That, that....you see, there are things....Suppose that every male scion of your family, from generation to generation, for many hundred years, had been a smith, and now a boy should grow up, who said:  I—­I despise your trade?’”

“If Ulrich should say:  ‘I-I wish to be an artist;’ it would be agreeable to me.”

“Even if smiths were persecuted like us Jews, and he ran from your guild to another out of fear?”

“No—­that would be base, and can scarcely be compared with your case; for see—­you are acquainted with everything, even what is called Christianity; nay, the Saviour is dear to you; you have already told me so.  Well then!  Suppose you were a foundling and were shown our faith and yours, and asked for which you would decide, which would you choose?”

“We pray for life and peace, and where peace exists, love cannot be lacking, and yet!  Perhaps I might decide for yours.”

“There you have it.”

“No, no!  We have not done with this question so speedily.  See, I do not grudge you your faith, nor do I wish to disturb it.  The child must believe, that all its parents do and require of him is right, but the stranger sees with different, keener eyes, than the son and daughter.  You occupy a filial relation towards your Church—­I do not.  I know the doctrine of Jesus Christ, and if I had lived in Palestine in his time, should have been one of the first to follow the Master, but since, from those days to the present, much human work has mingled with his sublime teachings.  This too must be dear to you, for it belongs to your parents--but it repels me.  I have lived, labored and watched all night for the truth, and were I now to come before the baptismal font and say ‘yes’ to everything the priests ask, I should be a liar.”

“They have caused you bitter suffering; tortured your wife, driven you
and your family from your home.....”

“I have borne all that patiently,” cried the doctor, deeply moved.  “But there are many other sins now committed against me and mine, for which there is no forgiveness.  I know the great Pagans and their works.  Their need of love extends only to the nation, to which they belong, not to humanity.  Unselfish justice, is to them the last thing man owes his fellow-man.  Christ extended love to all nations, His heart was large enough to love all mankind.  Human love, the purest and fairest of virtues, is the sublime gift, the noble heritage, he left behind to his brothers in sorrow.  My heart, the poor heart under this black doublet, this heart was created for human love, this soul thirsted, with all its powers, to help its neighbors and lighten their sorrows.  To exercise human love is to be good, but they no longer know it, and what is worse, a thousand times worse, they constantly destroy in me and mine the desire to be good, good in the sense