Clerambault had tried to take his bone away from the dog, and if he was bitten he had no right to complain; in point of fact he did not do so.  Men are in the right to fight injustice wherever they see it; perhaps it is not their fault if they often see no more than its big toe, like Gulliver’s at Brobdignag.  Well, we must each do what we can; and these people could bite.

It was Good Friday, and the rising tide of invasion swept up towards the Ile de France.  Even this day of sacred sorrow had not stopped the massacre, for the lay war knows nothing of the Truce of God.  Christ had been bombarded in one of His churches, and the news of the murderous explosion at St. Gervais that afternoon spread at nightfall through the darkened city, wrapped in its grief, its rage, and its fear.

The sad little group of friends had gathered at Froment’s house; each one had come hoping to meet the others, without previous appointment.  They could see nothing but violence all about them; in the present as well as in the future, in the enemy’s camp, in their own, on the side of revolutionists, and reactionaries as well.  Their agony and their doubts met in one thought.  The sculptor was saying: 

“Our holiest convictions, our faith in peace and human brotherhood rest in vain on reason and love; is there any hope then that they can conquer men?  We are too weak.”

Clerambault, half-unconsciously, as the words of Isaiah came to his mind, uttered them aloud: 

  “Darkness covers the earth,
  And the cloud envelops the people....”

He stopped, but from the faintly-lighted bed came Froment’s voice, continuing: 

  “Rise, for on the tops of the mountains
  The light shineth forth....”

“Yes, the light will dawn,” said Madame Froment; she was sitting on the foot of the bed in the dark near Clerambault; he leaned forward and took her hand.  It was as if a thrill widened through the room, like a ripple over water.

“Why do you say that?” asked the Count de Coulanges.

“Because I see Him plainly.”

“I can see Him too,” said Clerambault.

“Him?  Whom do you mean?” asked Doctor Verrier.  But before the answer could come, they all knew the word that would be said: 

“He who bears the light, the God who will conquer....”

“Are you waiting for a God?” said the old professor.  “Do you believe in miracles?”

“We are the miracle, for is it not one that in this world of perpetual violence we have kept a constant faith in the love and the union of men?”

“Christ is expected for centuries,” said Coulanges bitterly, “and when He comes, He is neglected, crucified, and then forgotten except by a handful of poor ignorant wretches, good if you like, but narrow.  The handful grows larger, and for the space of a man’s life, faith is in flower, but afterwards it is spoiled and betrayed by success, by ambitious disciples, by the Church; and so on for centuries ... Adveniat regnum tuum ...  Where is the kingdom of God?”