“He says he feels good, but the cast must remain on a while longer,” Sabina replied. “But what I wanted to ask you about, Papa, was what to say to him.”

“About what?”

“He is very interested in what you talked to him about in the garden and has asked some very difficult questions.”

“Good!” the baron replied enthusiastically. “Questions are the beginning of wisdom and knowledge. I’m glad to hear it.”

“But I don’t know how to answer him.”

“What does he ask?”

“May I read it to you?” Sabina asked.

“Of course.”

Sabina glanced down at the stationery she was holding and began reading. “‘Ever since I spoke with you and your father about God when I was there,’” she read, “‘I haven’t been able to get this one thing out of my mind. If God is so full of goodness and love, and if he is the kind of wonderful Father your father described, then why is the world as bad off as it is? Why are there wars? Why do people hate and kill? It seems that if God made the world and made men and women, then he either ought to have made them so they would be better or else make them behave better. It just doesn’t seem to make much sense to me. I like everything your father said about God being a loving father, and that part of it makes more sense than anything I’ve ever heard about God. But if he loves us so much, then why does so much badness exist?’”

Sabina looked up at her father.

“It is a very difficult question,” he said with a pensive nod. “That is probably the question that most keeps people from a belief in God. So, Sabina, what are you going to tell him?”

“I don’t know, Papa. I was hoping you would help me.”

“But he wrote to you. I think he wants to know what you think, not what I would say.”

“I was wishing you would tell me what to say.”

“I think you know the answer already. It’s inside you.”

“Maybe so,” replied Sabina. “Maybe it’s in my heart somewhere, but I don’t think it’s gotten to my head yet.”

The baron smiled and added, “Well, then, perhaps I will give you a hint.”

“Yes, Papa?”

“I think it has something to do with falling off of horses and why there are so many different colors of roses.”

Sabina thought hard for a few moments. “I’m afraid I still don’t understand.”

The baron stood up, a smile on his face. “You will,” he said. “You will.” And with that he slowly walked away, leaving Sabina to ponder his words.

Later that evening, an hour before bedtime, Sabina sat down at her writing desk and began to write a reply to Matthew:

Lieber Matthew!