nting these curiosities from awakening?"
he demanded. "I appeal to those--both men and women--who have passed
through colleges and boarding schools! Such curiosities cannot be
smothered, and they satisfy themselves as best they can, basely,
vilely. I tell you, sir, there is nothing immoral about the act which
perpetuates life by means of love. But we organize around it, so far as
concerns our children, a gigantic and rigorous conspiracy of silence.
The worthy citizen takes his daughter and his son to popular musical
comedies, where they listen to things which would make a monkey blush;
but it is forbidden to discuss seriously before the young that act
of love which people seem to think they should only know of through
blasphemies and profanations! Either that act is a thing of which
people can speak without blushing--or else, sir, it is a matter for
the innuendoes of the cabaret and the witticisms of the messroom!
Pornography is admitted, but science is not! I tell you, sir, that is
the thing which must be changed! We must elevate the soul of the young
man by taking these facts out of the realm of mystery and of slang. We
must awaken in him a pride in that creative power with which each one of
us is endowed. We must make him understand that he is a sort of temple
in which is prepared the future of the race, and we must teach him that
he must transmit, intact, the heritage entrusted to him--the precious
heritage which has been built out of the tears and miseries and
sufferings of an interminable line of ancestors!"

So the doctor argued. He brought forth case after case to prove that the
prostitute was what she was, not because of innate vileness, but because
of economic conditions. It happened that the deputy came to one of the
clinics where he met Therese. The doctor brought her into his consulting
room, after telling her that the imposing-looking gentleman was a friend
of the director of the opera, and might be able to recommend her for
a position on the stage to which she aspired. "Tell him all about
yourself," he said, "how you live, and what you do, and what you would
like to do. You will get him interested in you."

So the poor girl retold the story of her life. She spoke in a
matter-of-fact voice, and when she came to tell how she had been obliged
to leave her baby in the foundling asylum, she was surprised that
Monsieur Loches showed horror. "What could I do?" she demanded. "How
could I have taken care of it?"