taire the Holy Scripture. And
after him was heard a great noise: it was the stone of St. Helena which
had just fallen on the ancient world. Immediately there appeared in the
heavens the cold star of reason, and its rays, like those of the goddess
of the night, shedding light without heat, enveloped the world in a
livid shroud.

There had been those who hated the nobles, who cried out against
priests, who conspired against kings; abuses and prejudices had been
attacked; but all that was not so great a novelty as to see a smiling
people. If a noble or a priest or a sovereign passed, the peasants who
had made war possible began to shake their heads and say: "Ah! when we
saw this man in such a time and place he wore a different face." And
when the throne and altar were mentioned, they replied: "They are made
of four planks of wood; we have nailed them together and torn them
apart." And when some one said: "People, you have recovered from the
errors which led you astray; you have recalled your kings and your
priests," they replied: "We have nothing to do with those prattlers."
And when some one said "People, forget the past, work and obey," they
arose from their seats and a dull jangling could be heard. It was the
rusty and notched sabre in the corner of the cottage chimney. Then they
hastened to add: "Then keep quiet, at least; if no one harms you, do not
seek to harm." Alas! they were content with that.

But youth was not content. It is certain that there are in man two
occult powers engaged in a death-struggle: the one, clear-sighted and
cold, is concerned with reality, calculation, weight, and judges the
past; the other is athirst for the future and eager for the unknown.
When passion sways man, reason follows him weeping and warning, him of
his danger; but when man listens to the voice of reason, when he stops
at her request and says: "What a fool I am; where am I going?" passion
calls to him: "Ah, must I die?"

A feeling of extreme uneasiness began to ferment in all young hearts.
Condemned to inaction by the powers which governed the world, delivered
to vulgar pedants of every kind, to idleness and to ennui, the youth saw
the foaming billows which they had prepared to meet, subside. All these
gladiators glistening with oil felt in the bottom of their souls an
insupportable wretchedness. The richest became libertines; those of
moderate fortune followed some profession and resigned themselves to
the sword or to the ch