Aloud he said, “This is a free country, my boy; yet I fear you’ll get yourself into trouble some day if you keep up your little amusement of sweeping up the ground with girls, and if you propose to kill off our teachers. Why, they’re the staff of the nation.”
“What I say may sound harsh for the instant,” said the boy mildly, “but reflect for a little. Is it not better for a few to suffer than for many? Your schools must kill thousands of children. If a few teachers were sacrificed, many boys would be saved for military duty. Otherwise they will waste their strength in this imbecile of a life, or die, as I say.”
“How do you suppose the teachers would feel to be killed off?” asked the sergeant, his broad shoulders shaking with laughter.
Eugene made a compassionate gesture. “It would not be pleasant for them. Perhaps one could alter the punishment to banishment for life.”
“Why not allow them to stay at home, if they promise to stop teaching, or to use shorter hours?”
“Because a teacher will always teach, even as women and priests will always intrigue,” said Eugene firmly. “My grandfather says so.”
The sergeant turned his puzzled face up to the poplars overhead. “I’ve seen a good many boys and girls in my time, young Frenchman,” he observed slowly, “but I’m blest if I ever saw one with such twisted ideas as you’ve got. Why, you ought to be made over again. Is it your grandfather who has brought you up?”
“Yes, Mr. Officer.”
“Who is he, anyway?”