hat he can be, not even a man; but the dearest thing
about him is, that in spite of everything, he is a real man."

The truth of this remark was abundantly evident to Clerambault in
a long conversation that he had with Froment the next day. If the
courage of the young man did not desert him in the ruin of his life,
it was all the more to his credit, as he had never professed to be
an apostle of self-abnegation. He had had great hopes and robust
ambitions, fully justified by his talents and vigorous youth, but
unlike his friend Chastenay, he had never for a moment cherished any
illusions as to the war.

The disastrous folly of it had been clear to him at once, and this he
owed not only to his own penetrating mind, but to that inspiring angel
who, from his earliest infancy, had woven the soul of her son from her
own pure spirit.

Whenever Clerambault went to see Edme, Madame Froment was almost
always there; but she kept in the background, sitting at the window
with her work, only stopping occasionally to throw a tender glance at
her son. She was not a woman of exceptional cleverness, but she had
what may be called the intelligence of the heart, and her mind had
been cultivated by the influence of her husband--a distinguished
physician much older than herself. Thus it had happened that her whole
life had been filled by these two profound feelings, an almost filial
love for her husband and a more passionate sentiment for her son.

Dr. Froment, a cultivated man with much originality of mind which he
concealed under a grave courtesy, as if he feared to wound others by
his distinction, had travelled all over Europe, as well as in Egypt,
Persia, and India. He had been a student of science and of religion,
and his special interest had been the new forms of faith appearing
in the world; such as Babism, Christian Science, and theosophical
doctrines. As he had kept in touch with the pacifist movement, and was
a friend of Baroness Suttner, whom he had known in Vienna, he had
long seen the catastrophe approaching which threatened him and all
he loved. But man of courage as he was, and accustomed to the
indifference of nature, he had not tried to delude his family as to
the future, but had rather sought to strengthen their souls to meet
the danger that hung over their heads.

More than all his words, his example was sacred to his wife, for
the son had been yet a child at the time of his father's death. Dr.
Froment had suffered f