an, who struggled in vain to free himself.

"My heart beats true, my hand is firm----" And he looked about him.

"I ask you first, is there among you any one who has not loved his
father, who has not loved his father's memory; any one born in shame
and abasement? See, hear this silence! Priest of a God of peace, thy
mouth full of sanctity and religion, thy heart of corruption! Thou
canst not know what it is to be a father; thou shouldst have thought
of thy own! See, in all this crowd that you scorn there is not one
like you! You are judged!"

The guests, believing he was going to strike, made their first
movement.

"Do not come near us!" he cried again in the same threatening
voice. "What? You fear I shall stain my hand in impure blood? Did I not
tell you that my heart beats true? Away from us, and listen, priests,
believing yourselves different from other men, giving yourselves other
rights! My father was an honorable man. Ask the country which venerates
his memory. My father was a good citizen, who sacrificed himself for
me and for his country's good. His house was open, his table set for
the stranger or the exile who should turn to him! He was a Christian;
always doing good, never pressing the weak, nor forcing tears from
the wretched. As to this man, he opened his door to him, made him
sit down at his table, and called him friend. And how did the man
respond? He falsely accused him; he pursued him; he armed ignorance
against him! Confiding in the sanctity of his office, he outraged his
tomb, dishonored his memory; his hate troubled even the rest of the
dead. And not yet satisfied, he now pursues the son. I fled from him,
avoided his presence. You heard him this morning profane the chair,
point me out to the people's fanaticism; but I said nothing. Now,
he comes here to seek a quarrel; I suffer in silence, until he again
insults a memory sacred to all sons.

"You who are here, priests, magistrates, have you seen your old
father give himself for you, part from you for your good, die of
grief in a prison, looking for your embrace, looking for consolation
from any one who would bring it, sick, alone; while you in a foreign
land? Then have you heard his name dishonored, found his tomb empty
when you went there to pray? No? You are silent; then you condemn him!"

He raised his arm. But a girl, rapid as light, threw herself between
him and the priest, and with her fragile hands held the avenging
arm. It was Maria Cl