"You would like first to look at my pretty little things? Do so, my child; besides, you are not just yet collected enough for the serious matters we must speak of." And he led Wally to the mysterious commode, and explained everything to her, and told her where each thing had come from. Wally did not venture to speak, and looked and listened full of reverence. When they had come to the manger, the last and the best, "See," said the priest, "here at the back is Jerusalem, and there are the three Wise Kings who travelled to see the Holy Child--see, there is the star that is guiding them--and there lies the child in the manger, and does not dream yet that he is born to suffer for the sins of the whole world. For as yet He cannot think, and has brought no remembrance with him of His Heavenly home; for the Son of God became in all things a real child of man, like any other--else men might have said that there was no miracle in being as good and patient as Jesus Christ was, if He was the Son of God and had the power of God, and that it was no use to strive to follow such an example, if one was only an ordinary man. They say it often enough as it is, and go on in their sins." Wally looked at the pretty naked infant with his gold paper glory lying there so patiently, and when she thought of the stern dark crucified God as a poor helpless baby born to suffering, it touched her compassion, and she was sorry that she had been "so rude" to the poor crucified Being yesterday when standing by Luckard's bed. "But why did He let it all happen to Him?" she said involuntarily more to herself than to the priest. "Because He wanted to show mankind that they should not repay evil for evil, and should not revenge themselves; for God has said, 'Vengeance is mine.'" Wally grew red, and cast down her eyes. "Now come, my child," said the wise man, "and make your confession." "That will soon be done, your reverence," said Wally. And honest as was her nature, she related to him, in low and timid tones indeed but without any attempts at palliation, how all had happened, and soon the whole circumstances were made clear to the confessor. A mighty picture of life lay unrolled before him, sketched in rude and rough outlines, and he pitied the noble young blood that had grown wild between rugged rocks and rugged men. Long after Wally had ended he sat silent, looking meditatively before him. His gaze fixed itself on an old, much-read volume on a book-stand by the wall; a stranger whom he had received hospitably had given it to him; on the back stood printed in gold letters--Das Niebelungen-Lied.