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Автор: Adam Mickiewicz

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"Even so may God forgive you too!" interrupted the Warden.
"Father Jacek, if you are now about to take the sacrament,
remember that I am no Lutheran or schismatic! I know that whoever
saddens the last moments of a dying man, commits sin. I will tell
you something that will surely comfort you. When my late master
had fallen wounded, and I was kneeling by him, bending over his
breast; when, wetting my sword in his wound, I vowed vengeance,
my lord shook his head and stretched out his hand towards the
door, towards the place where you were standing, and drew a cross
in the air; he could not speak, but he made a sign that he
forgave his murderer. I understood well, but I was so furious
with rage that I have never said even a word of that cross."

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