For the hundredth time he expounded the proofs which he had amassed, with all the prudence of his mind and all the zeal of his heart. He exposed the first causes of the error, which slowly but surely appeared behind the masses of untruth which had veiled it. Then, strong in the conviction of right, he vigorously demanded:
“What answer can they give?”
At this point of the conversation the two professors heard a great clamour rising from the street. Riquet lifted up his head and listened anxiously.
“What is it now?” asked M. Leterrier.
“It is nothing,” replied M. Bergeret, “only Pecus!”
It was, indeed, as he had said a crowd of people uttering loud cries.
“I think I hear ‘Conspuez Leterrier!’” said the rector. “They must have heard that I am here!”
“I think so too,” said M. Bergeret, “and I believe that they’ll soon be shouting ‘Conspuez Bergeret!’ Pecus is fed on ancient ideas, and his aptitude for error is considerable. Feeling himself incapable of bringing reason to bear upon hereditary prejudices, he prudently sticks to the heritage of nursery tales, handed down by his forefathers. This particular kind of wisdom preserves him from errors that would otherwise do him harm. He keeps to the old and tried errors. He is imitative, and would be more so, were it not that he involuntarily deforms everything he imitates, such deformations going by the name of progress. Pecus never thinks, and it is unjust to say that he deceives himself. To his unhappiness, be it said, everything combines to deceive him. He knows not the meaning of doubt, for doubt springs from thought. Yet his ideas are ever changing, and at times his stupidity turns to violence. He excels in nothing, for everything that is in any way excellent flies before him, and ceases to be his. He wanders and languishes and suffers. We must give him deep, sorrowful sympathy; we must even venerate him, for it is from him that all virtue, all beauty, and all human glory spring. Poor Pecus!”
As M. Bergeret was pronouncing these words, a stone came hurtling through the window and fell upon the floor.
“There is an argument!” said the rector, picking up the stone.