“But wasn’t he God?”

“Be still⁠—it is nine o’clock, don’t you hear the clock striking?”

“Why did they beat Him? He had forgiven them. Then why did they hit Him? Did it hurt Him? Auntie, did it hurt?”

“Be quiet, I say. I am going to the dining-room to have tea now.”

“But perhaps it never happened, perhaps He was not beaten by them?”

“I am going.”

“No, Auntie, don’t go!⁠ ⁠…” And again my madness took possession of me. I sobbed and sobbed, and began knocking my head against the wall.