nor cavalry, asked in
turn where were their fathers. They were told that the war was ended,
that Caesar was dead, and that the portraits of Wellington and of Blucher
were suspended in the ante-chambers of the consulates and the embassies,
with this legend beneath: 'Salvatoribus mundi'.

Then came upon a world in ruins an anxious youth. The children were drops
of burning blood which had inundated the earth; they were born in the
bosom of war, for war. For fifteen years they had dreamed of the snows of
Moscow and of the sun of the Pyramids.

They had not gone beyond their native towns; but had been told that
through each gateway of these towns lay the road to a capital of Europe.
They had in their heads a world; they saw the earth, the sky, the streets
and the highways; but these were empty, and the bells of parish churches
resounded faintly in the distance.

Pale phantoms, shrouded in black robes, slowly traversed the countryside;
some knocked at the doors of houses, and, when admitted, drew from their
pockets large, well-worn documents with which they evicted the tenants.
From every direction came men still trembling with the fear that had
seized them when they had fled twenty years before. All began to urge
their claims, disputing loudly and crying for help; strange that a single
death should attract so many buzzards.

The King of France was on his throne, looking here and there to see if he
could perchance find a bee [symbol of Napoleon D.W.] in the royal
tapestry. Some men held out their hats, and he gave them money; others
extended a crucifix and he kissed it; others contented themselves with
pronouncing in his ear great names of powerful families, and he replied
to these by inviting them into his grand salle, where the echoes were
more sonorous; still others showed him their old cloaks, when they had
carefully effaced the bees, and to these he gave new robes.

The children saw all this, thinking that the spirit of Caesar would soon
land at Cannes and breathe upon this larva; but the silence was unbroken,
and they saw floating in the sky only the paleness of the lily. When
these children spoke of glory, they met the answer:

"Become priests;" when they spoke of hope, of love, of power, of life:
"Become priests."

And yet upon the rostrum came a man who held in his hand a contract
between king and people. He began by saying that glory was a beautiful
thing, and ambition and war as well; but there was something