Mr. Simpson rose protestingly.

“My dear Hugh,” he said.  “This is very painful.  I beg that you will spare me.”

“My name is Chiltern,” answered Hugh, shortly.  “Will you kindly explain, if you can, why the town of Grenoble has ignored us?”

Israel Simpson hesitated a moment.  He seemed older when he looked at Chiltern again, and in his face commiseration and indignation were oddly intermingled.  His hand sought his watch chain.

“Yes, I will tell you,” he replied slowly, “although in all my life no crueller duty has fallen on me.  It is because we in Grenoble are old-fashioned in our views of morality, and I thank God we are so.  It is because you have married a divorced woman under circumstances that have shocked us.  The Church to which I belong, and whose teachings I respect, does not recognize such a marriage.  And you have, in my opinion, committed an offence against society.  To recognize you by social intercourse would be to condone that offence, to open the door to practices that would lead, in a short time, to the decay of our people.”

Israel Simpson turned, and pointed a shaking forefinger at the portrait of General Augus Chiltern.

“And I affirm here, fearlessly before you, that he, your father, would have been the last to recognize such a marriage.”

Chiltern took a step forward, and his fingers tightened.

“You will oblige me by leaving my father’s name out of this discussion,” he said.

But Israel Simpson did not recoil.

“If we learn anything by example in this world, Mr. Chiltern,” he continued, “and it is my notion that we do, I am indebted to your father for more than my start in life.  Through many years of intercourse with him, and contemplation of his character, I have gained more than riches.  —­You have forced me to say this thing.  I am sorry if I have pained you.  But I should not be true to the principles to which he himself was consistent in life, and which he taught by example so many others, if I ventured to hope that social recognition in Grenoble would be accorded you, or to aid in any way such recognition.  As long as I live I will oppose it.  There are, apparently, larger places in the world and less humble people who will be glad to receive you.  I can only hope, as an old friend and well-wisher of your family, that you may find happiness.”

Israel Simpson fumbled for his hat, picked it up, and left the room.  For a moment Chiltern stood like a man turned to stone, and then he pressed the button on the wall behind him.