“You are sure, Scarlett?”
“Perfectly certain.”
“Then, if you are certain, that settles the question of Mademoiselle Elven’s present occupation.”
I rose and began to move around the room restlessly.
“But, after all,” I said, “that concerns us no longer.”
“How can it concern two Americans out of a job?” he observed, with a shrug. “The whole fabric of French politics is rotten to the foundation. It’s tottering; a shake will bring it down. Let it tumble. I tell you this nation needs the purification of fire. Our own country has just gone through it; France can do it, too. She’s got to, or she’s lost!”
He looked at me earnestly. “I love the country,” he said; “it’s fed me and harbored me. But I wouldn’t lift a finger to put a single patch on this makeshift of a government; I wouldn’t stave off the crash if I could. And it’s coming! You and I have seen something of the rottenness of the underpinning which props up empires. You and I, Scarlett, have learned a few of the shameful secrets which even an enemy to France would not drag out into the daylight.”
I had never seen him so deeply moved.
“Is there hope—is there a glimmer of hope to incite anybody while these conditions endure?” he continued, bitterly. 317
“No. France must suffer, France must stand alone in terrible humiliation, France must offer the self-sacrifice of fire and mount the altar herself!