"Father Hilarion once said to me: 'Daughter, I give you the ultimate criterion of the divineness of our religion—there cannot be an instance of human trial for which it does not furnish a rule of conduct and consolation.' A profound saying truly! Now is it possible we have here at last an exception? I do not seek to know on which side the honors lie. Where are the humanities? Ideas of honor are of men conventional. On the other hand, the humanities stand for Charity. If thou wert the denounced, O Sergius, how wouldst thou wish to be done by?" 

 Sergius' face brightened. 

 "We are not seeking to save a heretic—we are in search of quiet for our consciences. So why not ask and answer further: What would befall the Hegumen, did you tell the accused all you had from him? Would he suffer? Is there a tribunal to sentence him? Or a prison agape for him? Or torture in readiness? Or a King of Lions? In these respects how is it with the friend who vouched for you to the head of the Church? Alas!" 

 "Enough—say no more!" Sergius cried impulsively. "Say no more. O Princess, I will tell everything—I will save you, if I can—if not, and the worst come, I will die with you." 

 Womanlike the Princess signalized her triumph with tears. At length she asked: "Wouldst thou like to know if I am indeed a heretic?" 

 "Yes, for what thou art, that am I; and then"— 

 "The same fire in the Hippodrome may light us both out of the world." 

 There was a ring of prophecy in the words. 

 "God forbid!" he ejaculated, with a shiver. 

 "God's will be done, were better! ... So, if it please you," she went on, "tell me all the Hegumen told you about me." 

 "Everything?" he asked doubtfully. 

 "Why not?" 

 "Part of it is too wicked for repetition." 

 "Yet it was an accusation." 

 Prev. P 7/388 next