"To-day I am severer than you," interrupted Dorothea. "Who, indeed,
could guess that an old graybeard would derogate from the duties of his
office as father and as judge for the sake of a woman's smiling face in
clay--as Esau sold his birthright for a mess of pottage?"

"And to whom would it occur," asked Petrus, taking up his wife's tone,
"that so tender a mother as you would condemn her favorite son, because
he labored to earn peace for his soul by a deed--by a work for which his
master might envy him?"

"I have indeed observed," interrupted Dorothea, that Sirona's image has
bewitched you, and you speak as if the boy had achieved some great
miracle. I do not know much about modelling and sculpture, and I will
not contradict you, but if the fair-haired creature's face were less
pretty, and if Polykarp had not executed any thing remarkable, would it
have made the smallest difference in what he has done and felt wrong?
Certainly not. But that is just like men, they care only for success."

"And with perfect justice," answered Petrus, "if the success is attained,
not in mere child's play, but by a severe struggle. 'To him, that hath,
shall more be given,' says the scripture, and he who has a soul more
richly graced than others have--he who is helped by good spirits--he
shall be forgiven many things that even a mild judge would be unwilling
to pardon in a man of poor gifts, who torments and exerts himself and yet
brings nothing to perfection. Be kind to the boy again. Do you know
what prospect lies before you through him? You yourself in your life
have done much good, and spoken much wisdom, and I, and the children, and
the people in this place, will never forget it all. But I can promise
you the gratitude of the best and noblest who now live or who will live
in centuries to come--for that you are the mother of Polykarp!"