Morestal looked at him with an air of amazement:
"Your present opinions! Ideas different from mine! What's all this nonsense?"
Philippe felt, even more clearly than on the day before, the violence of a conflict which a confession would provoke. But, this time, his resolve was taken. There were too many reasons urging him towards a breach which he considered necessary. With his mind and his whole frame palpitating with his tense will, he was about to utter the irrevocable words, when Marthe hurried into the room:
"Don't keep your father, Philippe; the examining-magistrate is asking for him."
"Ah!" said Morestal. "I am not sorry that you have come to release me, my dear Marthe. Your husband's crazy. He's been talking a string of nonsense these past ten minutes. What you want, my boy, is rest."
Philippe made a slight movement. Marthe whispered:
"Be quiet."
And she said it in so imperious a tone that he was taken aback.
Before leaving the room, Morestal walked to the window. Bugle-notes sounded in the distance and he leant out to hear them better.
Marthe at once said to Philippe: