.

Philippe stood dumbfoundered. In the course of his reflections, he had
foreseen every demand, every supposition, every difficulty, in short,
all the consequences of the action upon which he had resolved. But how
could he have foreseen this one, not knowing that Marthe would be
present at that last and greatest interview? Before Le Corbier, before
his father, supposing this detail entered their heads, he could invent
an excuse of some kind. But before Marthe?...

From that moment, he had the terrifying vision of the catastrophe that
was preparing. A sweat covered his whole body. He ought to have faced
the danger bravely and piled explanation on explanation at the risk of
contradicting himself. As it was, he turned red and stammered. And, in
so doing, he put himself out of court.

Morestal had resumed his seat. Le Corbier was waiting, impassively. Amid
the great silence, Marthe, now quite pale, speaking in a slow voice,
which let fall the syllables one by one, said:

"Monsieur le ministre, I accuse my husband of perjury and falsehood. It
is now, when he withdraws his former evidence, that he is sinning
against the truth, against a truth which he knows ... yes, he knows it,
that I declare. By all that he has told me; by all that I know, I swear
that he never questioned his father's word. And I swear that he was
present at the attack."

"Then," asked Le Corbier, "why does M. Philippe Morestal act as he is
doing now?"

"Monsieur le ministre," replied Marthe, "my husband is the author of the
pamphlet entitled, _Peace before All_!"

The disclosure created a sort of sensation. Le Corbier gave a start. The
commissary wore an indignant air. As for old Morestal, he tried to stand
up, staggered and at once fell back in his seat. All his strength had
left him. His anger gave way before an immense despair. He could not
have suffered more had he heard that Philippe was dead.

And Marthe repeated:

"My husband is the author of the pamphlet entitled _Peace before All_!
For the sake of his opinions, for the sake of consistency with the
profound, the exalted faith to which his views give rise within him, my
husband is capable ..."

Le Corbier suggested:

"Of going to the length of a lie?"

"Yes," she said. "False evidence can only appear insignificant to him
beside the great catastrophe which he wishes to avert; and his
conscience alone dictates his duty to him. Is it true, Philippe?"

He replied, gravely:

"Certainl