“You will sup in the simplest possible way,” she said, “in the English fashion.”
From the spot where they were seated they could see the Seine, the roofs of the city, the domes and the steeples. The spectacle rendered them as silent as though they were looking out on Paris for the first time. After a while they spoke of the occurrences of the day, of the Assembly, of universal suffrage, of the breaking down of class barriers, and Monsieur Necker’s banishment. All four were agreed that a lasting liberty was at length achieved. Monsieur Duvernay foretold the rise of a new order, and applauded the wisdom of the legislators popularly elected. But his mind was not uplifted, and at times it seemed as though his hopes were alloyed with a certain uneasiness. Nicolas Franchot did not observe the same moderation. He proclaimed the peaceful triumph of the people and the era of fraternity.
Vainly did the physician, vainly the young woman assure him—
“It is only now that the struggle begins. We are only as yet at our first victory.”
“Philosophy is our ruler,” he would reply. “What benefits will not Reason shower on men who accept her all potent sway! The Golden Age which the poets fabled will become a reality. All ills will disappear with the fanaticism and tyranny which gave them birth. The virtuous and enlightened man will enjoy all possible felicity. What do I say? By the aid of physicians and chemists he will even succeed in attaining immortality upon earth.”
Sophie listened to him, but shook her head.
“If you wish to deprive us of death,” she said, “find us first a fountain of youth. Without that your immortality awakens my apprehension.”
The old philosopher laughingly asked her if she found the Christian doctrine of resurrection more comforting.
“For my part,” he said, after emptying his glass, “I am inclined to fear lest the angels and saints should feel impelled to favour the choir of virgins at the expense of the company of dowagers.”
“I do not know,” replied the young woman, in a meditative tone and lifting her eyes to his, “I do not know what value these poor charms, framed out of the dust of the earth, may have in the eyes of angels; but I am sure that divine omnipotence will be better able to repair the ravages of time, if in so blissful an abode such redress should be needful, than all your physics and your chemistry will ever succeed in doing in this world. You, who are an atheist, Monsieur Franchot, and do not believe that God reigns in the heavens, you cannot understand anything about the Revolution, which is the advent of God upon earth.”