The tempter had spoken to him for the last time, and so he made haste to say: “Thy love leads the way of thy duty. Harbor no longer the thought of sacrificing thyself to no purpose.” They reached the high gate of the graveyard. The bier was carried to the rise of ground where Marta Bachmann’s burial-place had been selected many years before. A grave had been hollowed out near that of the prophetess of revered memory. The colonists gathered around it. Walda and the school-master stood on one side and the elders on the other while the coffin was lowered. The simple one, who had not been seen at the meeting-house or in the procession, looked on from a place of vantage on the gravestone of Marta Bachmann. Adolph Schneider announced that there would be a reading of the Scriptures. An awkward pause followed. It was discovered that the Bible had been forgotten. The elders held a conference, while the villagers waited stolidly. “Hans Peter shall be sent back for the Holy Book,” announced the Herr Doktor, motioning to the simple one. Hans Peter advanced with slow steps. “There is a Bible here,” he said. “Bring it quickly, then,” ordered the elder. “It can be brought only after an understanding,” answered the simple one. “Gerson Brandt’s lost Bible is hidden here. It belongeth now to the stranger in Zanah. If it is the will of him who made it gay with colors that it be given to the stranger I will bring the Bible forth.” “Would the fool make terms with the elders of Zanah? Bring forth the Bible,” commanded the Herr Doktor. Hans Peter did not stir. “Dost thou defy me?” asked Adolph Schneider. The simple one made no sign that he heard. “Speak,” urged Gerson Brandt. “Stephen Everett shall have the Bible.” “When the promise is given that the elders will let me deliver it to the owner I will find it,” said Hans Peter. The promise was given, after a brief consultation of the elders. Hans Peter went back to Marta Bachmann’s gravestone, and from beneath it pulled out a stout wooden box. This he opened with some difficulty, and from it produced the Bible, which was wrapped in oil-cloth. Gerson Brandt’s heart gave a throb of joy when he saw it. “Bring it here to me,” he commanded, and the simple one, almost staggering under its weight, obeyed the wish of the school-master. The people whispered among themselves, and the elders looked sullenly at the volume about which there had been so many conjectures. “I will read from the Scriptures,” announced Gerson Brandt, motioning to the village fool to help him hold the heavy book. He turned to the fourteenth chapter of St. John, and, scanning a page more beautiful in its illumination than all the rest, he began to read the message of peace. After he had finished he closed the Sacred Book. One of the elders prayed, and while the people’s heads were bowed Hans Peter stole away with the Bible.