Paula the Waldensian by Eva Lecomte
page 65 of 213 (30%)
page 65 of 213 (30%)
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Poor Paula seemed at a loss. "Well, you see," she said, hesitatingly in a trembling voice, "I'm afraid to do it. You see, I don't dare to forget God." And so our good Teresa, in order to satisfy the poor child, promised to pray for her that very night. "No," insisted Paula, "let's pray now." Our poor servant looked around her in dismay. "I--! I pray here! In front of you and Lisita and Rosa! Never--! Besides, I wouldn't know what to say." "Do you mean to say that you don't know, 'Our Father which art in heaven?'" "Perhaps, but it's some time since I've repeated that prayer. I remember my poor mother. I used to kneel beside her and repeat it when I was your age. Once in a while since then, I have said my 'paternoster.' But it's been many years since it's passed my lips, and I haven't even thought of it for ages. No, no; it's useless. No, Paula, you pray for us. We certainly need it, but as for me praying--a poor sinner like me--I tell you it's useless." But Paula was not easily discouraged. "Teresa," and Paula put her cheek against the wrinkled one of our old servant, "you know that Jesus died for us, and do you mean to say, notwithstanding that, you are living like a heathen." |
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