For the Right

by Karl Emil Franzos

With a heavy heart he set out on his mission, finding Anusia in her sitting-room, her eldest boy, Wassilj, at her feet, reading to her with a clear voice from some book of spiritual comfort. On beholding her visitor, she gave a nod and ordered the little boy to leave them alone, but the child hesitated, obeying her repeated command reluctantly. She rose and went up to the pope with the icy quiet which had grown habitual with her; but her face was fearfully worn, and she looked quite an old woman now. There was scarcely a tremor in her voice. "I know what you have come for," she said "He has been sentenced to death."

"Yes," he replied. "But if ever----"

"Stop!" she interrupted; "would you have me and the children be present at----"

"Anusia!" he cried; "it is awful--fearful; do you know that your life-long repentance will never atone for this cruelty of heart?"

"Is that what you think?" she said, hoarsely; "and do you know how I loved him? do you know the depth of my suffering? God knows----"

"Do not call on Him," cried the pope, passionately; "He is holy and pitiful, and has nothing in common with the hardness of men."

"Priest," she said, confronting him wildly; "how dare you come between Him and me? His understanding me is the one hope which keeps me from madness----" and a cry burst from her; she fell at his feet, clinging to his knees, moaning: "Ah, turn not away from me! Try and consider the agony of my heart!"

He lifted her gently, making her sit down on a chair. "I do consider it," he said; "and I have borne this sorrow with you throughout. But do not think you can lessen it by being unforgiving and hard.... Come with me and see him," he added, folding his hands with his heart's entreaty; "it is his dying wish, will you not grant it? I will not plead his right to look for his wife and children."

"No, certainly," she interrupted him, and he shuddered at the cold denial glistening in her eyes; "he gave up his rights when he left us with no better excuse than his mad longing to obtain justice for any stranger. He could not have complained of me if I had told him as early as Palm Sunday, 'I cannot prevent your going, but you cease to be my husband,' I did not say that, I did not upbraid him, but I knelt to him and wept at his feet. He saw the agony of my soul, and went his way. I did not cease loving him, I only strove to save the children from his ruin. He would not have hesitated to make me the recipient of his plans, the go-between transmitting his messages to the village. He only thought of his work, never of what might come to us! And when we were taken to prison for his sake, he only said, 'And though they kill them I must go on with this cause!' Can a husband, a father, nay, a human being act thus? And when we were set free, and you and I went to see him, to entreat him to forego this life of bloodshed and murder lest his wife and children should have to bear the last fearful disgrace, did he listen to us? 'I cannot help it, I must go on,' he said. And neither can I help it now," she added, with a bitter moan; "he has brought me to it, and must bear the consequences!"

"And do you think this will help you to bear it?" said the pope. "Can it in any way lessen your sorrow?"