It is only fair to Bertin to say that he was one of the dozen,
and that he appreciated Clerambault's talents. He was even ready
to say so, when opportunity served, and as long as Clerambault was
unknown, he took pleasure in defending him. It is true that he would
sometimes add a friendly and patronising piece of advice to his
praises, which, if Clerambault did not always follow, he received with
the old affectionate respect.

In a little while Clerambault became known, and even celebrated.
Bertin, somewhat surprised, sincerely pleased by his friend's
success--the least bit vexed by it, perhaps--intimated that he thought
it exaggerated, and that the better Clerambault was the obscure
Clerambault before his reputation was made. He would even undertake to
prove this to Clerambault himself, sometimes, who neither agreed nor
disagreed. For how could he tell, who thought very little about it,
his head being always full of some new work? The two old comrades
remained on excellent terms, but little by little they began to see
less of one another.

The war had made Bertin a furious jingo. In the old days at school
he used to scandalise Clerambault's provincial mind by his impudent
disrespect for all values, political and social--country, morality,
and religion. In his literary works he continued to parade his
anarchism, but in a sceptical, worldly, bored sort of manner which was
to the taste of his rich clientele. Now, before this clientele and the
rest of those who purveyed to it, his brethren of the popular press
and theatres, the contemptible Parny's and Crebillon Jr.'s of the day,
he suddenly assumed the attitude of Brutus immolating his sons. It is
true he himself had none, but perhaps that was a regret to him.

Clerambault did not dream of finding fault with him for these
opinions; but he did not dream either that his old friend and
amoralist would come out against him as the defender of his outraged
country. But was it a question simply of his country?

There was a personal note in the furious diatribe that Bertin hurled
at him that Clerambault could not understand. In the general mental
confusion, Bertin, naturally shocked by Clerambault's ideas, might
have remonstrated with him frankly, face to face; but without any
warning, he began by a public denunciation. On the first page of his
paper appeared an article of the utmost virulence; he attacked, not
only his ideas, but his character, speaking of Clerambault's tragi