So that the archduchess may not like
our choir best, after all."
The mother said nothing for a moment, and then she said:
"Whose praise and love will the boy at the Cistercian convent sing,
Gottlieb, if he has such a lovely voice?"
"God's!--the dear Heavenly Father and the Savior!" he said, reverently.
"And you, my own? Will another little voice on earth prevent His
hearing you? Do the thousands of thousands always singing to Him above
prevent His hearing you? And what would the world do if the only voice
worth listening to were thine? It cannot be heard beyond one church, or
one street. And the good Lord has ten thousand churches, and cities
full of people who want to hear."
"But thou, mother! Thou and Lenichen, and the bread!"
"It was the raven that brought the bread," she said, smiling; "and thou
art not even a raven,--only a little child to pick up the bread the
raven brought."
He sat silent a few minutes, and then the terrible cloud of self and
pride dropped off from his heart like a death-shroud, and he threw
himself into her arms.
"Oh, mother, I see it all!" he said. "I am free again.
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