nations: only, we must not take for a measure the short space of our own lives; it is to ages and decades of ages we must look when we seek to judge of the result of a great struggle between opposing forces. Upon all the children of time and of party spirit—such as contradictions, lies, vain interpretations—time itself does justice; they evaporate like foam, and are gone. Truth remains. But the action of truth is slow; often centuries elapse before it is accepted. Still it makes way; the means exist not of sealing it hermetically, as some would do with the Holy Scriptures. Do not the rays of the sun make their way? and those who live in their brightness are the children of light."[1]
No one cared to break the silence that followed these eager, burning words. The same thought was throbbing in the heart of Clémence and of Ivan—that it was a grand and beautiful thing, a precious gift of God, to be allowed to work for that great future victory of truth and light. "But how little a woman can do," Clémence thought sadly. "Still, every word and deed of kindness, every message of divine love passed on to one poor waiting soul, helps the cause as truly as does the Czar himself in throwing wide open before the Bible the gates of his vast empire." Almost before she was aware, she had uttered something of her thought.
"Ah, but you would be wrong indeed to think yourself useless," said the Emperor in his courteous way. "Good women are true benefactors of society, by their example and the influence of their virtues. In their presence one seems to breathe a purer moral atmosphere."
"I think, sire," said Ivan, "that every human soul possesses influence, even the soul of a little child."
His thoughts, and those of Clémence also, turned to an empty cot in the next room. Quiet talk followed, of which
- ↑ These remarks on the influence of the Bible are taken from the conversations of Alexander with the Lutheran Bishop Eylert.
