"Would
not such an act have been one of selfishness rather than sacrifice?"
A faint color crept over her pale cheeks.
"Selfishness?--"
"Yes! Your love for him was quite a personal matter,--but your work
is a message to the world. You would have sacrificed the world for
his sake, even though he had murdered you!"
"I would!" she answered, and her eyes shone like stars as she spoke.
"The world is nothing to me; love was everything!"
"That is your way of argument," said Cyrillon. "But it is not God's
way!"
She was silent, but her looks questioned him.
"Genius like yours," he went on, "is not given to you for yourself
alone. You cannot tamper with it, or play with it, for the sake of
securing a little more temporal happiness or peace for yourself.
Genius is a crown of thorns,--not a wreath of flowers to be worn at
a feast of pleasure! You wished your life to be one of love,--God
has chosen to make it one of suffering. You say the world is nothing
to you,--then my dear friend, God insists that it shall be something
to you! Have you the right--I ask you, have you the right to turn
away from all your fellow mortals and say--'No--because I have been
disappointed in my hope and my love, then I will have nothing to do
with life--I will turn away from all who need my help--I will throw
back the gifts of God with scorn to the Giver, and do nothing simply
because I have lost what I myself specially valued!'"
Her eyes fell beneath his straight clear regard, and she moved
restlessly.
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