believed that Juliane's soul would still be burning in the flames of
purgatory. The indulgence of the "Inquisitor" Tetzel had proved its
power, and rescued her from the fire. To demonstrate this fact she
devised many a proof. For instance, one day the idea entered her mind
that foolish Juli's brain was so weak because Juliane, during her brief
existence, had used more of hers than was fair.

At first this had been a mere fancy; but, true to her nature, she
reverted to it again and again, while in the cart which she alone shared
with the child, until it had matured to an immovable conviction. During
her changeful, wandering life, she had had no fixed religious principles.
But, since the notion had entered her mind that Lienhard would reward her
for her love by giving her a share, even though a very small one, of his
heart, she had clung tenaciously to it, in spite of all rebuffs and the
offensive indifference with which he had treated her. On her sick bed
and during her convalescence, she had dwelt upon the fear that her sinful
prayer had killed the little wearer of the laurel wreath, until she could
say to herself that events had proved it. With the same firmness she now
held to the belief that she had found the right idea concerning little
Juli's soul.

With the passionate desire to atone to the patrician's daughter for the
wrong which she had inflicted upon her, she clasped the vagabond's child
to her heart with the love of the most faithful mother, and her
affectionate care seemed to benefit herself as well as the ailing little
one. Juli was as devoted to her Kuni as a faithful dog. The kindness
which the lame ropedancer showed to the fragile child was lavishly
returned to her by a thousand proofs of the warmest attachment.

So Kuni had found one heart which kept its whole treasure of love for her