The Mind, the Heart and the Feet

There was a lawyer in Paris who had every reason to think of himself as a good man.

He was successful and respected. He had built a reputation representing widows and orphans and taking the cases of people who needed an ally. He gave directions to strangers, surrendered his seat on buses, helped blind people cross the street. When someone needed a small kindness, he was the man willing to provide it. And he like being that man.

Then came a rainy November night in Paris. It was after midnight when the lawyer began walking home across the Pont Royal, the bridge that crosses the Seine near the Louvre. As he crossed, he noticed a young woman dressed in black leaning over the railing. He passed her, hesitated for a moment, and continued walking.

He had gone perhaps fifty yards when he heard a sound behind him. A body striking the water. He stopped. Then came a cry from the river. Another followed. The cries…