"I have not doubted for one second."
"You believe that you do not doubt, father! You believe blindly in your certainty! And you believe because you do not see clearly. You have within you a sentiment that soars above all your thoughts and all your actions, an admirable sentiment, a sentiment that makes you great: it is your love for France. You think that France is always in the right against one and all, come what may, and that she would be disgraced if she were ever in the wrong. That was the frame of mind in which you gave your evidence before the examining-magistrate. And that is the frame of mind which I ask you, monsieur le ministre, to take note of."
"And you," shouted old Morestal, bursting out at last, "I accuse you of being impelled by some horrible sentiment against your father, against your country, by I can't say what infamous ideas...."
"My ideas are outside the question...."
"Your ideas, which I can guess, are at the back of your conduct and of your mental aberration. If I love France too well, you, you are too ready to forget your duty to her."
"I love her as well as you do, father," cried Philippe, passionately, "and better, perhaps! It is a love that sometimes moves me to tears, when I think of what she has been, of what she is, so beautiful, so intelligent, so great, so adorable for her charm and her good faith! I love her because she is the mother of every lofty idea. I love her because her language is the clearest and noblest of all languages. I love her because she is always marching on, regardless of consequences, and because she sings as she marches and because she is gay and active and alive, always full of hopes and of illusions, and because she is the smile on the face of the world.... But I cannot see that she would be any the less great or admirable for admitting that one of her officials was captured twenty yards to the right of the frontier."
"Why should she admit it, if it is not true?" said Morestal.
"Why should she not admit it, if peace should be the outcome?" retorted Philippe.
"Peace! There's the great word at last!" sneered Morestal. "Peace! You too have allowed yourself to be poisoned by the theories of the day! Peace at the price of disgrace: that's it, is it not?"
"Peace at the price of an infinitesimal sacrifice of self-esteem."