And when, on a summer afternoon, the breezes sigh gently through the tall poplars at Wilanow, and the foreigner walks slowly through the broad avenue they form, while he hears the Polish language about him, and perhaps sees dear beings beside him who live wholly and entirely in their passion for the cause of Poland, as the cause which gives a meaning and a consecration to their lives, and in faith in the future of Poland, as the faith which alone has made them brave, useful men—then when the sunset is beautiful, and the flowers exhale their fragrance, and the temperature is mild, and the air a caress, the foreign wanderer feels less hopeless, and he says to himself: Who knows! Perhaps—in spite of all.
THE END
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Edinburgh & London
