He was the only one for whom Taras yet had a word; turning to him with deep emotion, he said: "Forgive me, thou best of friends, forgive my silence, and my grieving thee now so sorely. Thou hast loved me truly, I know!"
That was too much for Leo; he lay weeping in the arms of his friend.
"Alas," he sobbed, "what a man is lost in you!"
"Not so!" replied Taras, disengaging himself gently. "He who obeys the dictates of his own true heart cannot be lost, happen what may--at least not in the eyes of the just ones...." He turned away, stopping once again: "Father Leo," he said, below his breath, so that the priest only could understand him, "Father Leo, will you promise me one thing?"
"Surely. What is it? About your wife?"
"Nay; I require no promise on her account, for I know your heart. It is about--myself--when one day--my last hour shall have come--may I send for you? Will you come to me--to any place?--no matter how terrible it be?"
"I shall come," faltered the pope.
"Do you pledge me your word ... to any place?"
"Wherever it be."
"Thank you for all your friendship--for this last proof most of all...."