“We have accomplished much--very much. We have even restored the dead to life; but we cannot restore all the dead to life. There are a few very difficult problems.... We think we have solved them.... I do not speak of God. The very idea of God seems to be detached from this immense calamity. I do not speak of God, but of men. They must be told quite simply: there are wounds which we cannot cure. Therefore, let them stop inflicting such wounds, and the question will not arise again. That is a solution; but the members of my profession are too proud to make that suggestion to the world, and the world is too mad to listen.” My respect for this digression prevented me from interrupting; when, however, he had finished, I whispered: “Really, you say this missile----?” “You can’t get at it, you understand. Beyond reach! It’s rather degrading for a proud man to admit it, but at least it’s honest. And, besides, it’s a fact. Man placed it there; and it is beyond his power to remove it.” Though embarrassed by the presence of the doctor, I was deeply moved by his words. “Yet, in spite of it, one can live----” “No,” he said in a grave voice, “one can only die.” We walked as far as the edge of the wood. The clear light of an open meadow seemed to bring the doctor back within the bounds of professional etiquette; for he said in a different tone: “Excuse me, sir, for having made you consider things which must seem strange to a man with your point of view. I do not regret having taken this opportunity to speak to you about Dauche. He hasn’t, I believe, any near relations in uninvaded territory. You are interested in him, and I must warn you: he is lost. I’m going to add, since you seek his friendship, that at any moment something will happen to him, bringing death rapidly in its train.” I had only known Dauche for a short time, but I was overwhelmed. Some meaningless words came to my lips. I said something like “How terrible!” But the doctor, with a pale smile, ended by saying: “Alas! sir, you will do as I and many others have done: you will get used to living in the presence of men who yet share our world, but of whom one knows without a shadow of doubt that they are already dead.” * * * * * I could not get accustomed to such a thing. The conversation had taken place towards noon. I spent the rest of the day in avoiding the sight of Dauche--cowardly conduct which found justification in my inability to conceal my thoughts. Night found me deprived of sleep, but it was doubly useful: it gave me time to get the better of certain impressions, and enabled me to plead sickness for my changed disposition. As I was getting out of bed, Dauche suggested that we should both go for a walk in the woods. I was on the point of refusing; but his smile was so affectionate and engaging that I hadn’t the courage to pretend illness. Besides, the weather was radiant.