to
publish it. Well, that's over now. I can't go on as I have been doing.
Silence is choking me. By humbling myself, I lower my ideals. I must
speak aloud, in the hearing of all men. I will speak."

He had gradually become animated, excited by his own words. His voice
had increased in volume. His face expressed the glowing, irresistible,
often blind enthusiasm of those who devote themselves to generous
causes. And, yielding to a need to speak out which was anything but
frequent with him, he went on:

"You don't know, you don't know what it means to a man to be fired with
a great idea ... whether it be love of humanity, hatred of war or any
other beautiful illusion. It lights us and leads us. It is our pride and
our faith. We seem to have a second life, the real life, that belongs to
it, and an unknown heart that beats for it alone. And we are prepared to
suffer any sacrifice, any pain, any wretchedness, any insult ...
provided that it gain the day."

Suzanne listened to him with obvious admiration. Marthe appeared
uneasy. Knowing Philippe's nature thoroughly, she was well aware that,
in thus letting himself go, he was not only being carried away by a
flood of eloquent words.

He opened the window and drew a deep breath of the pure air which he
loved. Then he returned and added:

"We are even prepared to sacrifice those around us."

Marthe felt all the importance which he attached to this little
sentence; and, after a moment, she said:

"Are you referring to me?"

"Yes," said Philippe.

"But you know, Philippe, that, when I agreed to marry you, I agreed to
share your life, whatever it might be."

"My life as it looked like being, but not as I shall be compelled to
make it."

She looked at him with a glimmer of apprehension. For some time now, she
had noticed that he was even less communicative than usual, that he
hardly ever spoke of his plans and that he no longer told her what he
was working at.

"How do you mean, Philippe?" she asked.

He took a sealed letter from his pocket and showed her the address:

"_To the Minister of Public Instruction._"

"What is in that letter?" asked Marthe.

"My resignation."

"Your resignation! The resignation of your professorship?"

"Yes. I shall send this letter the moment I have confessed everything to
my father. I did not like to tell you before, for fear of your
objections.... But I was wrong.... It is necessary that you should
know...."

"I don't underst