and ten, who always seemed to have more understanding than a dozen philosophers,—I ask you, man, in the name of common sense and decency, how you could have so far forgotten yourself as to take that foundling into your house?”
“Oh, if I only could—if I were only free to speak out, dear friend, you would not hurt me so to the quick!”
“I hurt you to the quick!”
“Unintentionally, I know. If I could but tell you all! But I am not at liberty to speak freely. In the mean time I will only say this much: appearances often deceive, but truth will triumph at last. Truth is sometimes a very delicate thing; if you let it out at a wrong time it may do harm, though if made known at the right moment, it will prove a blessing. Though what I say may seem to you now not quite to agree with my character, the time will yet come when you shall see that I was not untrue either to myself or to my sacred calling, and only acted for the best, as a man and a Christian. I knew from the first I should have to sacrifice myself and to suffer for what I have done; but it would have been cowardly in me to be afraid of that. And, as I said before, I am not disgracing our clerical profession; a good work does not bring shame on any calling, and certainly does not undermine either faith or religion.”
“There is something really curious about you, my dear friend!” said Ledecký. “You always seem to soar a little above the earth, instead of being actually upon it, as we other mortals are. You struggle with all your might against the stream, but you are not able to bring your own character to bear upon the circumstances.
