“About all that has happened the past twelve months. It is no mere trifle!”
“No, indeed. And what is the result of your reflections?”
“That we have had the most extraordinary luck; we had to deal with enemies who seemed destined to triumph over us time after time; and that we have manifestly been protected by a divine providence.”
“Uncle Graff, you are rather illogical; extraordinary luck on the one hand, and divine providence on the other. They do not go very well together.”
“Oh, you are too sceptical. It is your generation which makes you so. You no longer believe in anything.”
“I do not believe in chance, no!” said Marcel, ironically. Then he added, in tones of sudden gravity, “But I believe in the firm, steadfast will of human beings. If we have been protected, as you say truly enough, it is because it was so willed. But for that—”
Silence followed. The darkness had now become complete.
“It was so willed,” repeated Uncle Graff. “You are alluding to that woman?”
“I am alluding to ‘that woman.’ It was she who defeated the plans of her acolytes, and saved me.”
“Because she loved you?”