"John Kessel - The Invisible Empire" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kessel John)

universe. If you have transgressed, the Lord demands that you confess. Remember, Jesus forgave even
the woman taken in adultery; he awaits your repentance with arms open in sweet forgiveness. But for
those whose hearts are hardened, only the angel of death awaits. Speak now, and be saved, or hold your
tongues and be damned for all eternity.

“My word today to you husbands, in particular and most direly to those who know of the sins of your
wives yet keep silent out of love, is simply this: you must act! You bear the burden of the Lord's
command, to be the head of your wife. Your own salvation, her salvation, and the salvation of the
community depend on it. Do not think that, by protecting her, you show mercy, any more than by joining
Eve, Adam did. By protecting evil, you condemn yourself, and your children, and the children of every
other man in this civilization to evil.

“All across our land, in these days of rebellion, this challenge is put to all, male and female. ‘Be not
deceived; God is not mocked: for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap.’

“Let us pray.”

As Reverend Hines led the Lord's Prayer, I bowed my head and recited the words with the others, but
my ears were burning. Beside me, Robert's eyes were closed. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Lydia
held her head rigidly forward.

After the prayer, the reverend called on the congregation to testify. “Now is the time! Do not be afraid
of your neighbors’ reaction. Do not wait, thinking perhaps that tomorrow, or next week, will be soon
enough. Tomorrow or next week you may be dead and burning in hell; no man knows the hour of his
judgment!”

He waited. The church lay silent. I saw Iris's golden head tremble; Iris is a foolish girl. I remembered
how she had fretted at the talk she had aroused when she'd worn red bloomers to the cotillion. Her
commitment went little farther than reading smuggled copies ofWoodhull and Claflin's Weekly . But she
did not rise.

In the end, no one did. Reverend Hines’ scowl told all that was needed of his displeasure.

After the service, as we stood beneath the huge oak outside the church, I made a special point to take
the reverend's hand. I thanked him for calling us to our conscience and deplored the lack of a response
from the congregation.

“God have mercy on their souls,” he said. “For I will have none.”

“I hope their silence only signifies the personal repentance that must precede the public one,” I said, and
stepped aside.

As Robert shook hands with Hines, Lydia Field touched my arm, and mentioned to me that the quilting
circle needed to get together soon.
****

Robert is a carpenter: he built our house with his own hands, on an acre of ground a mile outside of town.
It is a finer house than our income warrants, with extra bedrooms that we have not had cause to use. In
truth, the house, like our lives, is a work in progress, perhaps never to be finished. In the evenings, after
quitting his shop, Robert works laying oak flooring, mounting crown molding, trimming windows.