and yellower, and always threw up all her food, seeing she ate it without
salt or bread. I had long wondered that the bread from Liepe was not yet
done, but that every day at dinner I still had a morsel. I had often
asked, "Whence comes all this blessed bread? I believe, after all, you
save the whole for me, and take none for yourself or the maid." But they
both then lifted to their mouths a piece of fir-tree bark, which they had
cut to look like bread, and laid by their plates; and as the room was
dark, I did not find out their deceit, but thought that they, too, were
eating bread. But at last the maid told me of it, so that I should allow
it no longer, as my daughter would not listen to her. It is not hard to
guess how my heart was wrung when I saw my poor child lying on her bed of
moss struggling with grim hunger. But things were to go yet harder with
me, for the Lord in his anger would break me in pieces like a potter's
vessel. For behold, on the evening of the same day, old Paasch came
running to me, complaining that all his and my corn in the field had been
pulled up and miserably destroyed, and that it must have been done by
Satan himself, as there was not a trace either of oxen or horses. At these
words my poor child screamed aloud and fainted. I would have run to help
her, but could not reach her bed, and fell on the ground myself for bitter
grief. The loud cries of the maid and old Paasch soon brought us both to
our senses. But I could not rise from the ground alone, for the Lord had
bruised all my bones. I besought them, therefore, when they would have
helped me, to leave me where I was; and when they would not, I cried out
that I must again fall on the ground to pray, and begged them all save my
daughter to depart out of the room. This they did, but the prayer would
not come. I fell into heavy doubting and despair, and murmured against the
Lord that he plagued me more sorely than Lazarus or Job. Wretch that I
was, I cried, "Thou didst leave to Lazarus at least the crumbs and the
pitiful dogs, but to me thou hast left nothing, and I myself am less in
thy sight even than a dog; and Job thou didst not afflict until thou hadst