"And why should we like them?" interrupted Henri. "Though they are very polite, and sometimes even familiar, they exclude us from their intimacy and never accord us their friendship."
"We do the same."
"But with us it is different," replied Mann. "We have an excuse, for they have never ceased to render themselves odious."
"Then," concluded Simon, "we have a right to detest them, and their duty is to return love for hatred. Eh! If we slap them on one cheek, they must offer us the other! Besides, the Christian religion teaches that, does it not?"
Simon looked as serious as an owl as he spoke thus, but Mann continued, without smiling:--
"These nobles are fools! Their confidence is extravagant. They believe in the promises of Napoleon III.; they count on England, on Italy, on Hungary and Sweden, and even on Turkey. They await a revolution in Germany,--a revolution of potatoes, no doubt! They also hope much from troubles that are to arise in the interior of Russia. And from all this will infallibly come out the resurrection of Poland! What blindness!"
"In the meanwhile," observed Mathilde's father, "we are in a very disagreeable position. It is equally foolish for us to be on either side. Russia will prevail, that is certain; but during the combat the Poles can crush us and do us much evil, perhaps send us out of the country.
"You are mistaken," cried Henri.
"Yes," agreed Simon. "One has only to sit on two chairs to be sure that if one fails he can sit on the other."
"Naturally."