“All right,” said Thaddeus. “Here it is: How are you preparing your daughter for a world that, it is all too clear, may not be pleasant? All this here—it seems too perfect, too serene, too idyllic. Don’t get me wrong—I love it here at Lebenshaus, as I have said, and it has been so wonderful for Matthew. But don’t you fear that, if the worst does come, perhaps your daughter will be ill equipped to cope with it because she has been so completely protected from the harshness and cruelties of life?”

The baron nodded as Thaddeus spoke, deep lines of concern etching themselves across his forehead and becoming apparent around his eyes. He was clearly deep in thought. He continued to reflect a few moments after his friend was through, then spoke.

“You cannot know how long and hard and earnest have been our times of discussion and prayer over this very concern, Thaddeus,” he said. “Marion and I have spent countless hours asking ourselves that very question in a hundred different ways, quite literally since the day Sabina was born. Haven’t we, dear?”

Marion nodded.

“There are times and seasons, Thaddeus,” the baron said, “periods of life, now for one thing, now for another. God gives seasons of serenity at certain times, often with the purpose of preparation for difficulties that lie ahead. It is a mistake, in my view, to think that only hardship prepares one for hardship. There is, of course, a sense in which that is true. But there is another sense in which serenity is of equal strengthening value.

“Take growing plants, for example, such as any of a hundred we could examine around the garden here. Nurturing a tender young plant in a greenhouse early in its life, and then exposing it to the harsh winds and frosts of winter could kill it. On the other hand, if the years of its early life are such that its roots go deep and its stalk and trunk and branches grow strong and vital, then it becomes a plant of such virility that it will flourish under any adverse circumstances. So the greenhouse yields two very different possibilities of result.

“Likewise, imagine a tree having grown from a seedling high on the slopes of a rugged, rocky mountain where all nature did her best to destroy it. If that tree survives, it will indeed be tough and sinewy and hardy, able to withstand most anything. Yet most such seedlings die on those fierce slopes before reaching maturity. Those that do survive are usually dwarfed and deformed and never shaped and fruitful as they might have been had they spent their early years in a more protected environment.

“So which is the best way to grow a healthy and vibrant plant, Thaddeus,” laughed the baron, “in the greenhouse or on the mountain slope? Both contain inherent risks.”