To-day the hermit from the Felsenthal stood before the altar of our
church and read mass.
The church vestments and sacred utensils we had from Holdenschlag, as
they were lying there in the vestry unused. The mice had eaten holes in
the robe, but the spiders had woven them together again.
I played the organ. The church is not so large but that from the choir
one can see if tears are standing in the eyes of the priest at the
altar.
The people prayed little and whispered, much. This Einspanig,--he must
indeed be a second St. Jerome.
After the service the forest singer said these words to me: "Have you
seen the Wandering Jew? For the suffering Christ he has borne to-day
the heavy cross to Golgotha's heights. Hosanna, he thus casts his sins
away!"
I repeated the words to the hermit, adding: "May they make you happy;
the man is filled with the Holy Ghost!"