“You see I have nothing,” she answered. “For a time I had some of the possessions all value so much; but they are gone.”
“You tried to tell these people what you thought and felt, but they would not listen, you say; so you told them little foolish tales, like those that please children, but instruct not, help not, and thus you passed your life neglecting to unfold your own soul by expressing it truly. Only the weak and feeble of will, or the indolent and indifferent, turn back at the first obstacle. Where was your faith?”
“I sold it, as you see, for a pitiful price,” she answered, weeping.
“And were you satisfied?”
“Never. My conscience always lashed me. I have been punished already. Give me no further penance.”
“It is not ours to punish or pardon, nor in all the universe is there either punishment or pardon. There is only unchangeable, ever-active law. Had you done your work well”—
“What is it to do one’s work well?” she interrupted.
And now the woman of the glorious face came near and answered: “It is to give the highest and best that is in you, without caring whether it will please or offend; to express truth, as you see it, though the world be against you; to pay whatever price is asked, though it be starvation and disgrace for the freedom of your soul, for the soul is only free when it faithfully follows its Ideal.”
“Then I know I have not done my work well,” said the woman, sadly. “I seldom gave my best. I had not the courage. I was afraid the price I would have to pay would be too high. But what is the fate of those who do not do their work well?”
The faces of the company were full of pity, as they answered, “They must do it over again.”