“It’s more than a phrase. It’s the heart-beat of millions in Europe.”
“In France?” I asked pointedly. “In the France of Clémenceau?”
“More than you imagine,” he answered, boldly. “Beneath our present chauvinism, our natural exultation in victory, our inevitable hatred of the enemy, commonsense is at work, and an idealism higher than that. At present its voice is not heard. The old men are having their day. Presently the new men will arrive with the new ideas. They are here, but do not speak yet.”
“The Old Men again!” I said. “It is strange. In Germany, in France, in England, even in America, people are talking strangely about the Old Men as though they were guilty of all this agony. That is remarkable.”
“They were guilty,” said Pierre Nesle. “It is against the Old Men in all countries of Europe that Youth will declare war. For it was their ideas which brought us to our ruin.”
He spoke so loudly that people in the restaurant turned to look at him. He paid his bill and spoke in a lower voice.
“It is dangerous to talk like this in public. Let us walk up the Champs Élysées, where I am visiting some friends.”
Suddenly a remembrance came back to him.
“Your friends, too,” he said.