“Justice.”
“By that you mean—just what?”
“The reversal of the Dreyfus verdict—perhaps. To-day, France is resting over a slumbering volcano; it is impossible to predict when the eruption may occur.”
“Then you believe there is a possibility that poor Dreyfus may obtain justice?”
“A possibility—yes. At any rate, the whole Dreyfus affair is an ineffaceable blot on France. The country is army-ridden. The army condemned the poor Jew to Devil’s Island, and the army can make no mistake. The honor of the army must be maintained, at any cost, and so conspiracy follows conspiracy, and forgery follows forgery, till the whole affair is so tangled and twisted that a revolution may cut the twisted skein, which nothing seems to unravel.”
“And then what will happen?”
“Who can tell? The streets of Paris may again run red with human blood, works of art may be destroyed, beautiful buildings may be razed, and from the ashes and ruins another form of government may rise. It is not easy to foretell the future of France. Frenchmen are changeable. What pleases them to-day they regard with indifference or contempt to-morrow.”
“Well, I fancy we’ll have a peaceful time here,” said Jack.
“It’ll be a change from what we have been having,” came quickly from Harry. “Things were exciting enough in England.”
“Yes,” nodded Frank; “we did have a hot time there, take it all together.”