Paula the Waldensian | Page 9

to take hold of them as a drowning man would grasp a
board that floated by him--then without movement, with her eyes shut,
she seemed to be sleeping, but every once in a while she appeared to be
talking with someone."
"Do you think she was praying, Teresa?" I asked in a trembling voice.
"Yes, Lisita, she was praying. And I am sure that the good God heard
her, for she said to me after a long silence, Teresa, I believe my Saviour
has taken me for His own--I am a poor, guilty, and ungrateful sinner--I
have waited until the last moment, and I know my sins are great, but
my Saviour's love is greater. But oh, my husband!--and my children! I
have done nothing to attract them to God. Oh, Teresa, take care of them!
Take care of them! I have put them in the hands of the Lord that He
may save them also. I can do nothing and--it is too late!'
"She asked me to call your father who was resting in the next room for
he had watched all the previous night and had worked as usual all day.
She could hardly speak, but as best she could she prayed him to be
reconciled to God and to teach their children to know the way of
salvation."
"The strange thing to me, Teresa," said Rosa thoughtfully, "is that our
father who loved our mother so much, has not taught us this Christian
religion according to our dear mother's last wish."
"That is the terrible part," Teresa answered. "An awful change came on
him at the death of your mother. He loved her desperately and when
she died it seemed as if his heart turned to stone, and when I tried to
console him he cried out bitterly, 'Don't speak to me of God and don't
try to tell me He is a God of love. He took away my most precious
treasure and tore my heart and my very life to pieces.'
"About a week after the death of my poor madame he called me to him

and said, 'Teresa, you are a good woman. You've brought up my dear
Maria, carried her in your arms when she was small, and in your arms
she drew her last breath. She commended her poor children into your
hands, and I want you to remain forever at their side, but on one
condition, remember--that you never speak to them again on the subject
of religion, neither of prayer, nor of church, nor anything of the kind.
Hear me well, Teresa! Hear me! I have prayed very little in my life, but
on that last night when my dear wife passed away, if anyone prayed
with all his heart and all his strength, I did so. Kneeling beside her bed
I promised God to serve Him; to bring up my children for Him if He
would only leave me my treasure. But He didn't do it Then why should
I serve Him?'
"When I saw that it was useless to argue with him I promised what he
asked. Just think, if I had been obliged to abandon you to a strange
servant!" and Teresa viewed the three of us with those great blue eyes
of hers full of affection for us.
"Oh," I cried, trying to take her great fat body in my arms, "What
would we have done without you!"
But Teresa, wanting very much to cry and yet trying hard not to show it,
put me gently aside, saying, "There, there! You are making me lose a
lot of time. Stand up, stand up! You have been on the floor at my feet
for over half-an-hour like a little purring kitten and wearing out your
stockings besides."
And then continuing without awaiting my reply:
"Well, I am only a poor ignorant servant. If I can read, it is because my
poor madame taught me. Nevertheless it has nearly broken my heart to
see all three of you, and Louis besides, growing up like a bunch of
heathen. And, what happiness prayer does bring one!"
"Do you pray, Teresa?" asked the wondering Rosa.
"Oh, at times. But see now, servants must do what they see their
masters do. After the death of my poor madame I prayed often, but

little by little I seemed to lose the habit. Your father hardly ever spoke
to me, and excepting Catalina, you were all too small to understand
important things, and the neighbors!--Oh, you know among our
neighbors one never hears any prayers at their houses either. I would be
so happy before I die to see the day when my poor madame's prayers be
heard regarding us."
"It's a shame," said Rosa, "that Paula is so small. If she were only a