Happily, the storm passed as quickly as it had come. The chancelleries published bulletins announcing the return of fair weather, barometrically as it were. The howling dogs of the Press were despatched to their kennels. In a few hours the tension was relieved. It was a summer evening, and Christophe had rushed in breathless to convey the good news to Olivier. He was happy, and could breathe again. Olivier looked at him with a little sad smile. And he dared not ask him the question that lay next his heart. He said:
"Well: you have seen them all united, all these people who could not understand each other."
"Yes," said Christophe good-humoredly, "I have seen them united. You're such humbugs! You all cry out upon each other, but at bottom you're all of the same mind."
"You seem to be glad of it," remarked Olivier.
"Why not? Because they were united at my expense?… Bah! I'm strong enough for that … Besides, it's a fine thing to feel the mighty torrent rushing you along, and the demons that were let loose in your hearts…."
"They terrify me," said Olivier. "I would rather have eternal solitude than have my people united at such a cost."
They relapsed into silence: and neither of them dared approach the subject which was troubling them. At last Olivier pulled himself together, and, in a choking voice, said:
"Tell me frankly, Christophe: you were going away?"
Christophe replied:
"Yes."