“According to the holy Code Napoléon,” observed Professor Tavernier, with a shrug.
“The code kills the body, Napoleon the soul,” said Dr. Delmont, gravely.
“It was otherwise with Victor Noir,” suggested Mademoiselle Elven.
“Yes,” added Delmont, “he asked for justice and they gave him ... Pierre!”
“I think we are becoming discourteous to our guest, gentlemen,” said the young Countess, gently.
I bowed to her. After a moment I said: “Doctor, if you do truly believe in that universal brotherhood which apparently even tolerates within its boundaries a poor devil of the Imperial Police, if your creed really means peace and not violence, suffering and patience, not provocation and revolt, demonstrate to the government by the example of your submission to its decrees that the theories you entertain are not the chimeras of generous but unbalanced minds.”
“We never had the faintest idea of resisting,” said Monsieur Bazard, the notary, otherwise the Chevalier de Grey, a lank, hollow-eyed young fellow, already marked heavily with the ravages of pulmonary disease. But the fierce glitter in his eyes gave the lie to his words.
“Yesterday, Madame la Comtesse,” I said, turning to the Countess de Vassart, “the Emperor could easily afford to regard with equanimity the movement in which you are associated. To-day that is no longer possible.”
The young Countess gave me a bewildered look. 37
“Is it true,” she asked, “that the Emperor does not know we have severed all connection with the Internationale?”