"How beautiful it is!" exclaimed Tchernoff who was seeing something
beyond the shadows. "An entire civilization, loving peace and pleasure,
has passed through here."
A memory greatly affected the Russian. Many an afternoon, after lunch,
he had met in this very spot a robust man, stocky, with reddish beard
and kindly eyes--a man who looked like a giant who had just stopped
growing. He was always accompanied by a dog. It was Jaures, his friend
Jaures, who before going to the senate was accustomed to taking a walk
toward the Arch from his home in Passy.
"He liked to come just where we are now! He loved to look at the
avenues, the distant gardens, all of Paris which can be seen from this
height; and filled with admiration, he would often say to me, 'This is
magnificent--one of the most beautiful perspectives that can be found in
the entire world.' . . . Poor Jaures!"
Through association of ideas, the Russian evoked the image of his
compatriot, Michael Bakounine, another revolutionist, the father of
anarchy, weeping with emotion at a concert after hearing the symphony
with Beethoven chorals directed by a young friend of his, named Richard
Wagner. "When our revolution comes," he cried, clasping the hand of the
master, "whatever else may perish, this must be saved at any cost!"
Tchernoff roused himself from his reveries to look around him and say
with sadness:
"THEY have passed through here!"
Every time that he walked through the Arch, the same vision would spring
up in his mind.
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