The Chevalier let slip a stirring oath, and the grip he put on the hilt

of his sword would have crushed the hand of an average strong man.

"Monsieur, it is true that your father has wronged you, but can you not

forgive him?"

The Chevalier stared scowlingly into the Jesuit's eyes. "Would you

forgive a father who, as a pastime, had temporarily made you . . . a

bastard?"

The priest's shudder did not escape the searching eyes of the

Chevalier. "Ha! I thought not. Do not expect me, a worldly man, to

do what you, a priest, shrink from."

"Do not put me in your place. Monsieur. I would forgive him had he

done to me what he has done to you."

The Chevalier saw no ambiguity. "That is easily said. You are a

priest, I am a worldling; what to you would mean but little, to me

would be the rending of the core of life. My father can not undo what

he has done; he can not piece together and make whole the wreck he has

made of my life."

"Have you no charity?" persuasively.

The Chevalier spread his hands in negation. He was growing restive.

"Will you let me teach you?" Brother Jacques was expiating the sin of

envy.

"You may teach, but you will find me somewhat dull in learning."

"Do you know what charity is?"

"It is a fine word, covered with fine clothes, and goes about in pomp

and glitter. It builds in the abstract: telescopes for the blind,

lutes for the deaf, flowers for the starved. Bah! charity has had

little bearing on my life."

"Listen," said Brother Jacques; "of all God's gifts to men, charity is

the largest. To recognize a sin in oneself and to forgive it in

another because we possess it, that is charity. Charity has no

balances like justice; it weighs neither this nor that. Its heart has

no secret chambers; every door will open for the knocking. Mercy is

justice modified. Charity forgives where justice punishes and mercy

condones. Your bitter words were directed against philanthropy, not

charity. Shall an old man's repentance knock at the heart of his son

and find not charity there?"

"Repentance?" So this thought was not alone his?

"You will forgive him, Monsieur . . . my brother."

The Chevalier shook his head. "Not to-day nor to-morrow."

"You will not let him of your blood go down to the grave unforgiven;

not when he offered this blood to avenge an insult given to you. The

reparation he has made is the best he knows. Only forgive him and let

him die in peace. He is proud, but he is ill. To this hour he

believes that terrible struggle to be but a dream; but even the dream

brings him comfort. He is seventy; he is old. You take the first

step; come with me. Through all your life you will look back upon this

hour with happiness. Whatever the parent's fault may be, there is

always the duty of the child toward that parent. You will forgive him."




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