ancel your evidence and rely upon the unshaken testimony
of M. Morestal: is that it?"

Philippe was silent.

"Eh, what?" cried Morestal. "You don't answer?"

There was a sort of entreaty in the old man's voice, a desperate appeal
to Philippe's better feelings. His anger almost fell, so great was his
unhappiness at seeing his son, his boy, a prey to this madness.

"You mean that, don't you?" he resumed, gently. "You mean that monsieur
le ministre can and must abide by my declarations?"

"No," said Philippe, stubbornly.

Morestal started:

"No? But why? What reason have you for answering like that? Why should
you?"

"Because, father, though the nature of your declarations has not varied,
your attitude, during the last three days, proves that you are
experiencing a certain reticence, a certain hesitation."

"What makes you say that?" asked Morestal, trembling all over, but as
yet retaining his self-control.

"Your certainty is not absolute."

"How do you know? If you make an accusation, you must prove it."

"I am not making an accusation. I am trying to state my exact
impression."

"Your impression! What is that worth beside the facts? And it is facts
that I am asserting."

"Facts interpreted by yourself, father, facts of which you cannot be
sure. No, no, you cannot! Remember, the other morning, Friday morning,
we came back here and, while you were once more showing me the road
which you had covered, you said, 'Still, suppose I were mistaken!
Suppose we had branched off more to the right! Suppose I were
mistaken!'"

"That was an exaggeration of scruple! All my acts, on the contrary, all
my reflections ..."

"There was no need to reflect! There was not even any need to return to
this road! The fact that you returned to it shows that you were harassed
by a doubt."

"I have not doubted for one second."

"You believe that you do not doubt, father! You believe blindly in your
certainty! And you believe because you do not see clearly. You have
within you a sentiment that soars above all your thoughts and all your
actions, an admirable sentiment, a sentiment that makes you great: it is
your love for France. You think that France is always in the right
against one and all, come what may, and that she would be disgraced if
she were ever in the wrong. That was the frame of mind in which you gave
your evidence before the examining-magistrate. And that is the frame of
mind which I ask you, monsieur le ministre