Part 2 (1/2)
”Less than you, because I know them better. I have judged them by comparison. Well, they are our inferiors.”
”Well, I _am_ pleased. We hear nothing but the opposite of this. In France, above all, the praise of the conquerors of 1870 continues without intermission.”
The young man, touched by M. Ulrich's emotion, leaned no longer on the sofa, but bending forwards, his face lit up by the lamp, which made his green eyes appear more brilliant, said:
”Do not mistake me, Uncle Ulrich. I do not hate the Germans, and in that I differ from you. I even admire them, for in some things they are admirable. Among them I have friends I esteem greatly. I shall have others. I belong to a generation which has not seen what you have seen, and which has lived differently--I have not been conquered!”
”Happily, not!”
”Only the more I know them, the more I feel myself different from them; I feel I am of another race, with another category of ideals into which they do not enter, which I find superior, and which, without knowing why, I call 'France.'”
”Bravo, Jean, bravo!”
The old dragoon officer bent forward--he also was quite pale--and the two men were only separated by the width of the table.
”What I call France, uncle, what I have in my heart, like a dream, is a country where there is a greater facility for thought.”
”Yes----”
”For speech----”
”That's it!”
”For laughter.”
”How right you are!”
”Where souls have infinite shades of colour! A country that has the charm of a woman one loves, as it were a still more beautiful Alsace.”
Both had risen, and M. Ulrich drew his nephew towards him, and pressed that fervent head against his breast.
”Frenchman!” said he, ”Frenchman to the marrow of your bones, and in every drop of blood in your veins! My poor boy!”
The young man continued, his head still resting on the older man's shoulder:
”That is why I cannot live over yonder--across the Rhine--and why I shall live here!”
”Well might I say 'poor boy'!” answered M. Ulrich. ”All is changed--alas! Even here in your home. You will suffer, Jean, with a nature like yours. I understand everything now--everything.”
Then letting his nephew go:
”How glad I am I came to-night. Sit down there quite close to me. We have so much to say to each other--Jean, my Jean!”
They sat down side by side, happy, on the sofa. M. Ulrich stroked his pointed beard into its habitual well-groomed neatness. He recovered from his emotion, and said:
”Do you know that by speaking of France as we have spoken this evening, we have committed misdemeanours such as I delight in? It is not allowed. If we had been out of doors and Hamm had heard us, we should have been speedily dealt with--there would have been an official report!”
”I met him this afternoon.”
”And I saw the son pa.s.s by in the depths of the wood just now. He is a non-commissioned officer in the Rhenish Hussars--the regiment which will soon be yours. Is that the carriage I hear?”