ere, in which case it becomes your imperative duty
to prove to me that you were not there. It is very easy: where were you
at that moment?"

Philippe had a fit of rebellion and, replying aloud to the thoughts that
tortured him:

"Ah, no!" he said. "Ah, no!... It's not possible that I should be forced
to.... Nonsense, it would be monstrous!..."

It seemed to him as though a malevolent genius had been trying, for four
days past, to direct events in such a way that he, Philippe, was under
the terrible necessity of accusing Suzanne.

"No, a thousand times no!" he repeated, angrily. "There is no power that
can compel me.... Say that I spent the night walking about, or sleeping
by the roadside. Say what you please.... But leave me free in my actions
and my words."

"In that case," said the under-secretary of state, gathering up his
papers, "the enquiry is at an end and M. Morestal's evidence will serve
as the basis on which I shall form my conclusions."

"Very well," retorted Philippe, beside himself.

He began to walk, almost to run, around the tent. He was like a wild
animal seeking an outlet. Was he to throw up the work which he had
undertaken? Was he, the frail obstacle self-set against the torrent, to
be vanquished in his turn? Oh, how gladly he would have given his own
life! He became aware of this, deep down in his inner consciousness. And
he understood, as it were physically, the sacrifice of those who go to
their death smiling, when a great idea uplifts them.

But in what respect would death have settled things? He must either
speak--and speak against Suzanne: a torture infinitely more exquisite
than death--or else resign himself. It was this or that: there was no
alternative.

He walked to and fro, as though tormented by the fire that devoured him.
Was he to fling himself on his knees before Marthe and ask for mercy or
to fold his hands before Le Corbier? He did not know. His brain was
bursting. And he had the harrowing feeling that all his efforts were in
vain and turning against himself.

He stopped and said:

"Monsieur le ministre, your opinion alone matters; and I will attempt
impossibilities to make that opinion agree with the real facts. I am
prepared for anything, monsieur le ministre ... on one condition,
however, that our interview is private. To you and to you alone I can
..."

Once more, he found Marthe facing him, Marthe, the unforeseen enemy,
who seemed to hold him gripped as a prey and