Cihlar & Egeler - The Saint and her Fool

But little Berta shakes her head: „That's not how the Pastor is; he is fair to all of us in what he says. He accepts her opinion, because she so seriously believes in what she says.”

Frau von Hardenstein sometimes looks with inquisitive eyes at the child, when she sits immersed over her books.

Tomorrow, the Duke and Duchess are expected to return. They return earlier in order to have enough time before the benediction, although the weather is still rough and the blackthorn bushes are still wearing their white dress, and Harro’s departure is only days away. Rosemarie seems quite nervous about the upcoming big day that she had pushed the fact aside that she would not see him all summer long. But the closer the day draws near, the more depressed and quiet she becomes. Frau von Hardenstein can’t help but wonder, if it is Harro’s absence that troubles her, or maybe the strenuous lessons and upcoming confirmation ceremony. One evening, sitting beside Rosemarie’s bedside, she asks her in a soft tone:

„So tell me, child, what dispirits you so.“

Tears rise in Rosemarie`s eyes. “Oh, Frau von Hardenstein, I am so unhappy.“

„Tell me what troubles you; it will make it easier.“

„I, oh, I ... you cannot help me ... I do not wish to be confirmed.“

Frau von Hardenstein gazes, in speechless astonishment, at the bitterly weeping child.

„But I always hear with such joy, how the Pastor benevolently acknowledges your ardor for the lessons and now you do not want to be confirmed! What are your doubts?”

„I must promise things ... and I do want to so much…and now I cannot.“

„Is it the vow that makes you sorrowful? I must agree...it is quite an important step for a young heart such as yours. I will speak to the Pastor tomorrow; he is a kind and understanding man and you can tell him what you feel. He has actually offered to do this before. You may trust him to understand.”

„How can I, - when I can say nothing to him ... I would like to, but I can not ... „ She begins to cry bitterly.

„Why do you think you cannot tell him what you feel?”

„Oh, because of Harro.“

„What does Harro have to do with it? He sometimes says things that sound thoughtless, but he certainly would never doubt your religious beliefs.“

„No, certainly not ... But he does not want to do what – according to the Pastor- all pious men do. He wants to live all by himself and he never speaks a word about Jesus. If he believed in Him, he would speak to me about it. He always says, 'I do not understand,’ or ‘that you will have to ask the Pastor.’ And if he never wishes to speak of Him, the golden band will tear, which God has connected up his heart to His kingdom“

„My dear child, I just do not see what that has to do with your confirmation. This all can indeed change when Harro has found a loving woman.“

„Well, don`t you see how we are drifting apart more and more - until he is all alone! I am among those who walk the heavenly path and he is alone out there and if the gate of heaven closes and he stays ... all alone ...in the darkness.“ Rosemarie`s delicate body trembles as she cries. „His golden ribbon must not be torn ... I cannot leave him alone, I must stay with him.“

„Rosemarie, please stop crying. Wait until tomorrow. Tomorrow the Pastor will visit you and you can speak to him. But do promise me that you will not speak of Harro.”

„But Frau von Hardenstein, that would be as if I wanted to deny Harro.“

„Hush now, child. Try to sleep and put it in the hands of God.”

The Pastor is sitting opposite to Rosemarie at the old, round table, on which a twig of sloe lies and fills the air with his bitter-sweet fragrance. The stone slabs under the linden tree are covered with golden sunshine. Over on the forest heights, white clouds are sweeping over a blue sky. Sometimes a cloud covers the sun, casting a shadow and then the gold vanishes on the stones, filling the elevated room with a sudden twilight. Rosemarie is nestled in a large chair, her face as pale as the light. She looks so pure and innocent in her long dress, her thick braids wrapped around her head. The fine lily-white little neck rises from the small neckline of her dress, as if a tender flower rising from dark soil. Her eyes reveal that she had been crying that night; she is shy.

„You have always been such a joy to me, Rosemarie,“ begins the Pastor. „Not only could you always understand what we have studied, but independently you rethought and reflected in your own words. I must admit, you have often surprised me. Notably in the fact that no difficulty was evaded; this is rare for girls, but you have always pursued a topic a bit further than the other children. Lately, I have noticed that you have been somewhat depressed. I also have talked to your kind governess, whom you owe so much, and I would love to answer any questions which you might have, if I am able to. Even we clergymen have not solved all the questions, Rosemarie.“

He smiles faintly and his gaze goes down to his hands as he sits in silence, respectfully waiting for Rosemarie to find the courage to speak. But she is silent. As he says without looking up: „Do your vows trouble you?“

„Oh Pastor, I cannot, I cannot say them ... I was quiet when the other children recited them.”

„They are words from ancient times, Rosemarie. It often grieves me that our church does not find or allow new phrasing for these commitments. They are from a long forgotten time and do not always conclude the major religious beliefs of our congregation. I have often tried to express, how every time and age has its special knowledge of God and that some phrasings live much longer, than their associated contemplation. But this is not what you need now. I can see that all this is affecting your strong belief; do not cry, Rosemarie. I know that you can express your thoughts very well in writing. Write to me of what you have learned to think of in your heart, in as few words as possible, I will grant you every freedom. Write down, what you would confess to God, if you had to, in your own words. If you wish to do it right now, so I will wait, I have time, and you might then find a question for me ... or would you like to send it to me? „

„I would rather write it now.”

Rosemarie stands up and fetches a sheet of paper from her green leather folder. It is a sheet from the new ones, with an imprinted crown, and she writes, apparently without any hesitation as if transcribing something. Oh, she has thought about everything so often in the past days and nights, struggling with these thoughts and tormenting herself.

„I believe in God, who created the world with all the soil, sun, stars and human beings. I thank Him that He made ​​the earth so beautiful; lush forests, the clear blue sky, clean trickling water, the loveliest flowers and the wind that caresses it all. God has also made ​​the erupting mountains, wild storms, the bitter death, the loneliness, the agony – For this we must thank Him for all; He sent Jesus into the world; and he has let Jesus know the pain, the loneliness, bitter death. I want to serve him as I love him, and my heart is sad, because I love him still not enough.“

Her eyes lift up. „Should I write more?”

„That should be enough.”

She slides the sheet to the Pastor, who takes it and walks to the window. A shadow has darkened the room again so it seems he searches for light, or maybe he seeks to hide his expression while reading. Then he turns back to her.

„I have guessed your thoughts and see again how you live in them. Should these ancient words be so difficult for you to say? They are actually what you think; only the phrasing has changed.”

„There is something else ... I want to write it down - oh, I cannot speak it out loud.”