talk, and smileat each other. And why do not Christian people, who profess the onegreat law of love and self-sacrifice, when they behold what they havewrought, fall in repentance upon their knees before Him who, when hegave them life, implanted in the soul of each of them, together with afear of death, a love of the good and the beautiful, and, with tearsof joy and happiness, embrace each other like brothers? No! But itis a comfort to think that it was not we who began this war, that weare only defending our own country, our father-land. The white flagshave been hauled in, and again the weapons of death and suffering areshrieking; again innocent blood is shed, and groans and curses areaudible.
* * * * *
I have now said all that I wish to say at this time. But a heavythought overmasters me. Perhaps it should not have been said;perhaps what I have said belongs to one of those evil truths which,unconsciously concealed in the soul of each man, should not be uttered,lest they become pernicious, as a cask of wine should not be shaken,lest it be thereby spoiled.
Where is the expression of evil which should be avoided? Where is theexpression of good which should be imitated in this sketch? Who is thevillain, who the hero? All are good, and all are evil.
Neither Kalugin, with his brilliant bravery--_bravoure degentilhomme_--and his vanity, the instigator of all his deeds; norPraskukhin, the empty-headed, harmless man, though he fell in battlefor the faith, the throne, and his native land; nor Mikhailoff,with his shyness; nor Pesth, a child with no firm convictions orprinciples, can be either the heroes or the villains of the tale.
The hero of my tale, whom I love with all the strength of my soul, whomI have tried to set forth in all his beauty, and who has always been,is, and always will be most beautiful, is--the truth.
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