and," she stammered. "I don't understand...."

"Yes, you do, Marthe: you understand. The ideas which have taken
possession of me little by little and to which I want to devote myself
without reserve are dangerous for young brains to listen to. They form
the belief of an age for which I call with might and main, but it is not
the belief of to-day; and I have no right to teach it to the children
entrusted to my care."

She was on the verge--thinking of her own children, whose well-being and
whose future were about to suffer through this decision--she was on the
verge of exclaiming:

"Why need you shout it from the house-tops? Stifle your vain scruples
and go on teaching what you find in the manuals and school-books."

But she knew that he was like those priests who prefer to incur poverty
and opprobrium rather than preach a religion which they no longer
believe.

And she simply said:

"I do not share all your opinions, Philippe. There are even some that
terrify me ... especially those which I do not know, but which I half
suspect. But, whatever the goal to which you are leading us, I will walk
to it with my eyes closed."

"And ... so far ... you approve?"

"Entirely. You must act according to your conscience, send that letter
and, first of all, tell your father everything. Who knows? Perhaps he
will admit ..."

"Never!" exclaimed Philippe. "Men who look into the future can still
understand the beliefs of former days, because those were their own
beliefs when they were young. But men who cling to the past cannot
accept ideas which they do not understand and which clash with their
feelings and with their instincts."

"So ...?"

"So we shall quarrel and cause each other pain; and the thought of it
distresses me infinitely."

He sat down, with a movement of weariness. She leant over him:

"Do not lose courage. I am sure that things will turn out better than
you think. Wait a few days.... There is no hurry; and you will have time
to see ... to prepare...."

"Everything turns out well when you speak," he said, smiling and
allowing himself to be caressed.

"Unfortunately ..."

He did not finish his sentence. He saw Suzanne opposite him, glaring at
the pair of them. She was ghastly pale; and her mouth was wrung with a
terrible expression of pain and hatred. He felt that she was ready to
fling herself upon them and proclaim her rage aloud.

He released himself quickly and, making an effort to jest:

"Tush!