nes, as in the heroic days. Sacrifice is the
condition of fecundity. To make others believe, you must believe first
yourself, and prove it. Men do not see a truth simply because it
exists, it must have the breath of life; and this spirit which
is ours, we can and ought to give. If not, our thoughts are only
amusements of dilettanti--a play, which deserves only a little
applause. Men who advance the history of the world make
stepping-stones of their own lives. How much higher than all our
great men was the Son of the carpenter of Galilee. Humanity knows the
difference between them and the Saviour."

"But did He save it?

"'When Jahveh speaks: "'Tis my desire,"
His people work to feed the fire.'"

"Your circle of flame is the last terror, and Man exists only to break
through, that he may come out of it free."

"Free?" repeated Perrotin with his quiet smile.

"Yes, free! It is the highest good, but few reach it, although the
name is common enough. It is as exceptional as real beauty, or real
goodness. By a free man I mean one who can liberate himself from
himself, his passions, his blind instincts, those of his surroundings,
or of the moment. It is said that he does this in obedience to the
voice of reason; but reason in the sense that you give it, is a
mirage. It is only another passion, hardened, intellectualised, and
therefore fanatical. No, he must put himself out of sight, in order to
get a clear view over the clouds of dust raised by the flock on the
road of today, to take in the whole horizon, so as to put events in
their proper place in the scheme of the universe."

"Then," said Perrotin, "he must accommodate himself to the laws of
that universe."

"Not necessarily," said Clerambault, "he can oppose them with a clear
conscience if they are contrary to right and happiness. Liberty
consists in that very thing, that a free man is in himself a conscious
law of the universe, a counter-balance to the crushing machine, the
automaton of Spitteler, the bronze _Ananke_. I see the universal
Being, three parts of him still embedded in the clay, the bark, or the
stone, undergoing the implacable laws of the matter in which he is
encrusted. His breath and his eyes alone are free; "I hope," says his
look. And his breath declares, "I will!" With the help of these he
struggles to release himself. We are the look and the breath, that is
what makes a free man."

"The look is enough for me," said Perrotin gently.

"And