Cyprian of Carthage, On the Lapsed 25

I was present and saw it all myself, so take this account as true. The parents, fleeing in panic and hardly thinking straight, left their baby daughter in the care of a nurse; the nurse then brought the child to the magistrates. There, at the idol where the crowds gathered, the officials gave her bread soaked in wine — since she was too young for solid food — wine that had itself been left over from the sacrifices of the dying. Later the mother reclaimed her daughter. But the little girl could neither speak of what had been done to her nor even understand it beforehand, let alone resist it. So, in ignorance, her mother brought her along when we were offering sacrifice. Yet the child, now among the saints, could not endure our prayers and supplications; she began to be tossed about, now shaken by weeping, now by a surge of mind, and as if driven by a torturer she confessed, with the few signs she could manage, the awareness of the deed in her simple soul, still so young. When the solemn rites were finished and the deacon began offering the cup to those present, her turn came. Moved by a divine impulse, the little girl turned her face away, pressed her lips tight, and refused the cup. The deacon persisted, however, and, even as she struggled, poured the sacrament of the cup into her. Then came hiccups and vomiting. The Eucharist could not remain in a violated body and mouth; the drink sanctified by the Lord's blood burst forth from her polluted innards. Such is the power of the Lord, such is his majesty! The secrets of darkness are laid bare under his light, and hidden crimes cannot deceive God's priest.