Not that it would have
made much difference," he added. "I admit that. The ground had been too
well prepared. England was envious of our trade. King Edward had been
plotting our destruction. Our papers were full of translations from
yours, talking about '_La Revanche_!' We were told that you had been
lending money to Russia to enable her to build railways, and that when
they were complete France and Russia would fall upon us suddenly. 'The
Fatherland in danger!' It may be lies or it may not; what is one to do?
What would you have done--even if you could have done anything?"
"He's right," said a dreamy-eyed looking man, laying down the book he had
been reading. "We should have done just the same. 'My country, right or
wrong.' After all, it is an ideal."
A dark, black-bearded man raised himself painfully upon his elbow. He
was a tailor in the Rue Parnesse, and prided himself on a decided
resemblance to Victor Hugo.
"It's a noble ideal," he said. "_La Patrie_! The great Mother. Right
or wrong, who shall dare to harm her? Yes, if it was she who rose up in
her majesty and called to us.
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