"You're a fine fellow, Monsieur Krafft. What a pity you're not one of us!"
"But I am one of you! The fight is the same everywhere. Let us close up the ranks!"
The Commandant quite agreed: but there he stayed. Then Christophe pressed his point and brought the conversation back to M. Weil and the Elsbergers. And the old soldier no less obstinately went back to his eternal arguments against Jews and Dreyfusards, and nothing that Christophe had said seemed to have had the slightest effect on him.
Christophe grew despondent. Olivier said to him:
"Don't you worry about it. One man cannot all of a sudden change the whole state of mind of a nation. That's too much to expect! But you have done a good deal without knowing it."
"What have I done?" said Christophe.
"You are Christophe."
"What good is that to other people?"
"A great deal. Just go on being what you are, my dear Christophe. Don't you worry about us."
But Christophe could not surrender. He went on arguing with Commandant Chabran, sometimes with great vehemence. It amused Céline. She was generally present at their discussions, sitting and working in silence. She took no part in the argument: but it seemed to make her more lively: and quite a different expression would come into her eyes: it was as though it gave her more breathing-space. She began to read, and went out a little more, and found more things to interest her. And one day, when Christophe was battling with her father about the Elsbergers, the Commandant saw her smile: he asked her what she was thinking, and she replied calmly: