Product Description This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1896 edition. Excerpt: ...nor whether my nature can endure it, I am in uncertainty and suffering, as if I were in prison." Here his brows met in a wrinkle of pain, and a flush appeared on his cheeks; after that he spoke on with growing haste and greater emotion,--"As ye see, I am tortured from love and uncertainty. Men tell me that in your religion there is no place for life, or human joy, or happiness, or law, or order, or authority, or Roman dominion. Is this true? Men tell me that ye are madmen; but tell me yourselves what ye bring. Is it a sin to love, a sin to feel joy, a sin to want happiness? Are ye enemies of life? Must a Christian be wretched? Must I renounce Lygia? What is truth in your view? Your deeds and words are like transparent water, but what is under that water? Ye see that I am sincere. Scatter the darkness. Men say this to me also: Greece created beauty and wisdom, Rome created power; but they--what do they bring? Tell, then, what ye bring. If there is brightness beyond your doors, open them." "We bring love," said Peter. And Paul of Tarsus added,--"If I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am become sounding brass." But the heart of the old Apostle was stirred by that soul in suffering, which, like a bird in a cage, was struggling toward air and the sun; hence, stretching his hand to Vinicius, he said,--"Whoso knocketh, to him will be opened. The favor and grace of God is upon thee; for this reason I bless thee, thy soul and thy love, in the name of the Redeemer of mankind." Vinicius, who spoke with enthusiasm already, sprang toward Peter on hearing this blessing, and an uncommon thing happened. That descendant of Quirites, who till recently had not recognized humanity in a foreigner, seized the hand of the old Galilean,... About the Author Sienkiewicz won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1905.