Then he started toward the door, accompanied by his cousin. The farewell
was brief.
"I repeat my counsel. If you do not like danger, go! It may be that I am
mistaken, and that this nation, convinced of the uselessness of defense,
may give itself up voluntarily. . . . At any rate, we shall soon see.
I shall take great pleasure in returning to Paris when the flag of the
Empire is floating over the Eiffel Tower, a mere matter of three or four
weeks, certainly by the beginning of September."
France was going to disappear from the map. To the Doctor, her death was
a foregone conclusion.
"Paris will remain," he admitted benevolently, "the French will remain,
because a nation is not easily suppressed; but they will not retain
their former place. We shall govern the world; they will continue to
occupy themselves in inventing fashions, in making life agreeable for
visiting foreigners; and in the intellectual world, we shall encourage
them to educate good actresses, to produce entertaining novels and to
write witty comedies. . . . Nothing more."
Desnoyers laughed as he shook his cousin's hand, pretending to take his
words as a paradox.
"I mean it," insisted Hartrott. "The last hour of the French Republic as
an important nation has sounded. I have studied it at close range,
and it deserves no better fate. License and lack of confidence
above--sterile enthusiasm below.
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