flect and
give our evidence with a certain reserve, with caution.... We must
behave prudently...."

"We must behave like Frenchmen who are in the right," cried Morestal,
"and who, when they are in the right, fear nobody and nothing in this
world!"

"Not even war?"

"War! What are you talking about? War! But there can't be war over an
incident like this! The way things are shaping, Germany will yield."

"Do you think so?" said Philippe, who seemed relieved by this assertion.

"Certainly! But on one condition, that we establish our right firmly.
There has been a violation of the frontier. That is beyond dispute. Let
us prove it; and every chance of a conflict is removed."

"But, if we don't succeed in proving it?" asked Philippe.

"Ah, in that case, it can't be helped!... Of course, they will dispute
it. But have no fear, my boy: the proofs exist; and we can safely go
ahead.... Come along, they're waiting for us downstairs...."

He grasped the door-handle.

"Father!"

"Look here, what's the matter with you to-day? Aren't you coming?"

"No, not yet," said Philippe, who saw a way out and who was making a
last effort to escape. "Presently.... I must absolutely tell you.... You
and I start from a different point of view.... I have rather different
ideas from yours ... and, as the occasion happens to present itself ..."

"Impossible, my boy! They are waiting for us...."

"You must hear me," cried Philippe, blocking the way. "I refuse to
accept with a light heart a responsibility that is not in accordance
with my present opinions; and that is why an explanation between us has
become inevitable."

Morestal looked at him with an air of amazement:

"Your present opinions! Ideas different from mine! What's all this
nonsense?"

Philippe felt, even more clearly than on the day before, the violence of
a conflict which a confession would provoke. But, this time, his resolve
was taken. There were too many reasons urging him towards a breach which
he considered necessary. With his mind and his whole frame palpitating
with his tense will, he was about to utter the irrevocable words, when
Marthe hurried into the room:

"Don't keep your father, Philippe; the examining-magistrate is asking
for him."

"Ah!" said Morestal. "I am not sorry that you have come to release me,
my dear Marthe. Your husband's crazy. He's been talking a string of
nonsense these past ten minutes. What you want, my boy, is rest."

Philippe made