"No," said the widow, "it is not because the man who for fifteen years
has been my all in life will be to-morrow in his bed of earth; it is
not because when I was a child I witnessed the massacres of Légé, and
saw my dear ones killed beneath your banner, and felt their blood
spattering my face; it is not because for ten whole years those who
fought for your ancestors persecuted mine, burned their houses,
ravaged their fields,--no, I repeat, it is not for that, nor all that,
that I hate you."
"Then why is it?"
"Because it seems to me an impious thing that a family, a race, should
claim the place of God, our only master here below,--the master of us
all, such as we are, great and small; impious to declare that we are
born the slaves of that family, to suppose that a people it has
tortured have not the right to turn upon their bed of suffering unless
they first obtain permission! You belong to that selfish family; you
have come of that tyrant race. It is for that I hate you."
"And yet you have given me shelter; you have laid aside your grief to
lavish care not only upon me, but also upon him who accompanies me.
You have taken your own clothes to cover me; you have given him the
clothes of your poor dead husband, for whom I pray here below, and
who, I hope, will pray for me in heaven."
"All that will not hinder me, after you have once left my house, after
I have fulfilled my duty of hospitality,--all that will not prevent me
from praying ardently that those who are pursuing you may capture
you."
"Then why not deliver me up to them, if such are really your
feelings?"
"Because those feelings are less powerful than my respect for
misfortune, my reverence for an oath, my worship of hospitality;
because I have sworn that you shall be saved this day; and also
because, perhaps, I hope that what you have seen here may be a lesson
not wholly lost upon you,--a lesson that may disgust you with your
projects. For you _are_ humane; you _are_ good. I see it!"
"What should make me renounce projects for which I have lived these
eighteen months?"
"This!" said the widow.
And with a rapid, sudden movement, like all she made, she pulled away
the sheet that covered the dead, disclosing the livid face and the
ghastly wound surrounded by purple blotches.
The younger woman turned aside. In spite of her firmness, of which she
had given so many proofs, she could not bear that dreadful sight.
"Reflect, Madame," continued the widow; "reflect that before what you
are attempting can be accomplished, many and many a poor man, whose
only crime is to have loved you well,--many fathers, many sons, many
brothers,--will be, like this one, lying dead. Reflect that many
widows, many sisters, many orphans will be weeping and mourning, as I
do, for him who was all their love and all their stay!"
"My God! my God!" exclaimed the princess, bursting into tears,
as she fell on her knees and raised her arms to heaven; "if we are
mistaken,--if we must render an account to thee for all these hearts
we are about to break--"
Her voice, drowned in tears, died away in a moan.