" "Soul!" cried Undine, laughing; "that sounds very fine, and
for most people may be very edifying and moral advice. But if one has
no soul at all, pray how is one to keep watch over it? And that is my
case." The Priest was deeply hurt, and turned away his face in mingled
sorrow and anger. But she came up to him beseechingly, and said, "Nay,
hear me before you are angry, for it grieves me to see you displeased,
and you would not distress any creature who has done you no harm. Only
have patience with me, and I will tell you all, from the beginning."
They saw she was preparing to give them a regular history; but she
stopped short, appearing thrilled by some secret recollection, and
burst into a flood of gentle tears. They were quite at a loss what to
think of her, and gazed upon her, distressed from various causes. At
length drying her eyes, she looked at the Priest earnestly and said,
"There must be much to love in a soul, but much that is awful too. For
God's sake, holy father, tell me--were it not better to be still
without one?" She waited breathlessly for an answer, restraining her
tears. Her hearers had all risen from their seats, and now stepped
back from her, shuddering. She seemed to have no eyes but for the
saintly man; her countenance assumed an expression of anxiety and awe
which yet more alarmed the others. "Heavy must be the burden of a
soul," added she, as no one answered her--"heavy indeed! for the mere
approach of mine over-shadows me with anxious melancholy.
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