ere
armed equally against the enemy or their own citizens. The machine of
war is double-ended, the cover strong, made of the best steel, and
firmly screwed down; that, at least, cannot be torn off--no, but
suppose the whole thing blows up together!

Repressed, like everyone else, Clerambault saw rebellion gathering
around him. He understood it, thought it inevitable; but that was not
a reason for loving it. He did not believe in the _Amor Fati_. It was
enough to understand; the tyrant has no claim to be loved.

Clerambault's young friends were not sparing of their ideas, and it
surprised them to see how little warmth he showed towards the new idol
from the North: the rule of the proletariat. They had no timorous
scruples or half-measures, they meant to make the world happy in
their way--perhaps not in its own. At one stroke they decreed the
suppression of all liberties in opposition to theirs; the fallen
middle classes were not to be allowed to meet, or to vote, or to have
the freedom of the press.

"This is all very well," said Clerambault, "but at this rate they will
be the new proletariat, tyranny will merely change places."

"Only for a time," was the answer, "the last oppression, which will
kill tyranny."

"Yes, the same old war for right and liberty; which is always going to
be the war to end war; but in the meantime it is stronger than ever,
and rights like liberty are trampled under foot."

Of course they all protested indignantly against this comparison; in
their eyes war and those who waged it were equally infamous.

"None the less," said Clerambault gently, "many of you have fought,
and nearly all of you have believed in it ... no, do not deny it!
Besides, the feeling that inspired you had its noble side; a great
wickedness was shown to you, and you threw yourselves upon it to root
it out, in a very fine spirit. Only you seem to think that there is
only one wickedness in the world, and, that when that has been purged
away, we shall all return to the Golden Age. The same thing happened
at the time of the Dreyfus Case; all the well-meaning people of
Europe--I among them--seemed never to have heard before of the
condemnation of an innocent man. They were terribly upset by it, and
they turned the world inside out to wash off the impurity. Alas! this
was done, but both washers and washed grew discouraged in the process,
and when it was all over, lo,--the world was just as black as ever! It
seems as