“But duty, uncle! duty!”

“God forbid that I cease to respect that word.  Suffer me only to observe, that in the ardor of youth one easily mistakes that obligation.  There are circumstances in which duty appears so clearly and distinctly, and speaks so loudly, that it must be obeyed at all risks.  Our force must be devoted to it—­our soul, our life.  Ordinarily, however, we are forced to decide between conflicting duties, and the one which seems the best is ordinarily the least praiseworthy.  The man who devotes himself to daily toil has family affections, and diffuses good around him.  Does not he discharge his duty?  Does not he occupy an honorable place in the social system?  Does virtue exist only in extraordinary actions?  Is there no crown to be gathered except in adventurous enterprises or in the battle field?  And is not he a good citizen, who toils usefully, and properly educates his children?”

Ireneus did justice to his uncle’s arguments, and was moved by the touching kindness he evinced.  His mind was however made up, and nothing could divert him.

Alete, her husband, and the old pastor, sought to retain him.  When Ebba heard he was about to leave, she said nothing:  her head sunk on her bosom, and tears stole into her eyelids.

Ireneus left not without effort and distress.  At sunset the rays of the sun have singular beauty, and life is never so attractive as to the dying man.  Just at the moment of separation a strange reaction also takes place.  In an instant we see a kind of dazzling light, unfolding to us what we love and what we abandon.  We regret in anticipation what we are about to leave.  The door is not yet passed, the farewell is not spoken.  We pause and hesitate.  We may return, and joyfully cast ourselves into arms still open to us.  This is the last contest of the heart, perhaps the last remonstrance of a good genius.  Passion however conquers, and the bark is launched upon a sea without a port, beneath a sky without a star.  May God guide it!

Thus Ireneus departed, deserting domestic peace, leaving a family in distress, and crushing a young heart.  He was himself unhappy, but was sustained by the idea that he hearkened to the voice of honor, and that the sacrifice was noble in proportion as it was painful.

It was the beginning of summer.  The earth had become green, and the woods Were filled with the sound of birds.  A pure sky, silvery lakes, all the varied beauty of the north, seemed revived as if by magic at the first breath of spring.  Had anything been able to retain him, nature would.

Thanks to the clearness of the nights which permitted him to travel, he soon reached Stockholm, where he embarked on the Lubeck steamer, went to see his mother, and hurried to La Vendee, where he joined the flag he had come so far to stand beneath.