"There is enough for us all." We sat down, leaning against the mast-like trunk of a fir-tree. The air was laden with a resinous odor; from the fields blew a gentle wind; the shave-grass waved to and fro. Grandmother plucked the herbs with her dark hands, and told me about the medicinal properties of St. John's-wort, betony, and rib-wort, and of the secret power of bracken. Grandfather hewed the fallen trees in pieces, and it was my part to carry the logs and put them all in one place; but I stole away unnoticed into the thicket after grandmother. She looked as if she were floating among the stout, hardy tree-trunks, and as if she were diving when she stooped to the earth, which was strewn with fir-cones. She talked to herself as she went along. "We have come too early again. There will be hardly any mushrooms. Lord, how badly Thou lookest after the poor! Mushrooms are the treat of the poor." I followed her silently and cautiously, not to attract her attention. I did not wish to interrupt her conversation with God, the herbs, and the frogs. But she saw me. "Have you run away from grandfather?" And stooping to the black earth, splendidly decked in flowered vestments, she spoke of the time when God, enraged with mankind, flooded the earth with water and drowned all living creatures. "But the sweet Mother of God had beforehand collected the seeds of everything in a basket and hidden them, and when it was all over, she begged the sun: 'Dry the earth from end to end, and then will all the people sing thy praises.' The sun dried the earth, and she sowed the seed. God looked. Once more the earth was covered with living creatures, herbs, cattle, and people. 'Who has done this against My will?' He asked. And here she confessed, and as God had been sorry Himself to see the earth bare, He said to her, 'You have done well.'" I liked this story, but it surprised me, and I said very gravely: "But was that really so? The Mother of God was born long after the flood." It was now grandmother's turn to be surprised. "Who told you that?" "It was written in the books at school." This reassured her, and she gave me the advice: "Put all that aside; forget it. It is only out of books; they are lies, those books." And laughing softly, gayly, "Think for a moment, silly! God was; and His Mother was not? Then of whom was He born?" "I don't know." "Good! You have learned enough to be able to say 'I don't know.'" "The priest said that the Mother of God was born of Joachim and Anna." Then grandmother was angry. She faced about, and looked sternly into my eyes. "If that is what you think, I will slap you." But in the course of a few minutes she explained to me. "The Blessed Virgin always existed before any one and anything. Of Her was God born, and then--" "And Christ, what about Him?" Grandmother was silent, shutting her eyes in her confusion. "And what about Christ? Eh? eh?"