on their doctrines, as in the heroic days.  Sacrifice is the condition of fecundity.  To make others believe, you must believe first yourself, and prove it.  Men do not see a truth simply because it exists, it must have the breath of life; and this spirit which is ours, we can and ought to give.  If not, our thoughts are only amusements of dilettanti—­a play, which deserves only a little applause.  Men who advance the history of the world make stepping-stones of their own lives.  How much higher than all our great men was the Son of the carpenter of Galilee.  Humanity knows the difference between them and the Saviour.”

“But did He save it?

  “’When Jahveh speaks:  “’Tis my desire,”
  His people work to feed the fire.’”

“Your circle of flame is the last terror, and Man exists only to break through, that he may come out of it free.”

“Free?” repeated Perrotin with his quiet smile.

“Yes, free!  It is the highest good, but few reach it, although the name is common enough.  It is as exceptional as real beauty, or real goodness.  By a free man I mean one who can liberate himself from himself, his passions, his blind instincts, those of his surroundings, or of the moment.  It is said that he does this in obedience to the voice of reason; but reason in the sense that you give it, is a mirage.  It is only another passion, hardened, intellectualised, and therefore fanatical.  No, he must put himself out of sight, in order to get a clear view over the clouds of dust raised by the flock on the road of today, to take in the whole horizon, so as to put events in their proper place in the scheme of the universe.”

“Then,” said Perrotin, “he must accommodate himself to the laws of that universe.”

“Not necessarily,” said Clerambault, “he can oppose them with a clear conscience if they are contrary to right and happiness.  Liberty consists in that very thing, that a free man is in himself a conscious law of the universe, a counter-balance to the crushing machine, the automaton of Spitteler, the bronze Ananke.  I see the universal Being, three parts of him still embedded in the clay, the bark, or the stone, undergoing the implacable laws of the matter in which he is encrusted.  His breath and his eyes alone are free; “I hope,” says his look.  And his breath declares, “I will!” With the help of these he struggles to release himself.  We are the look and the breath, that is what makes a free man.”

“The look is enough for me,” said Perrotin gently.

“And without the breath I should die!” exclaimed Clerambault.

In a man of thought there is a wide interval between the word and the deed.  Even when a thing is decided upon, he finds pretexts for putting it off to another day, for he sees only too clearly what will follow; what pains and troubles.  And to what end?  In order to calm his restless soul he pours out a flood of energetic language on his intimate friends, or to himself alone, and in this way gains the illusion of action cheaply enough.  In the bottom of his heart he does not believe in it, but like Hamlet, he waits till circumstances shall force his hand.