“I always come back to the saying of Madame Dupont-Delagneau,” replied M. Bergeret. “I should be too much afraid that the systems of Altair or Aldebaran would resemble our solar system, and that it would not be worth while changing. And as for being born again on this terrestrial globe--I think not, doctor, thank you!” “But come now, really!” persisted the doctor. “Would you not, like Madame Péchin, like to be immortal, somehow or other?” “All things considered,” replied M. Bergeret, “I am content with being eternal, and, in my essence, I am that. As for the consciousness I enjoy, that is a mere accident, doctor, a momentary phenomenon, like a bubble formed on the surface of the waters.” “Agreed! But it is better not to say so,” replied the doctor. “Why?” asked M. Bergeret. “Because such notions are not suited to the masses, with whom you must agree outwardly, though inwardly you hold other views. It is community of belief that makes strong nations.” “The truth is,” replied M. Bergeret, “that men of a common faith have no more urgent desire than to exterminate those who think differently, particularly if the difference is very slight.” “We are going to hear three speeches,” said M. Mazure. He was mistaken. Five speeches were made and no one heard a word. Cries of “_Vive l’armée!_” broke out as General Cartier de Chalmot went by, while Messieurs Leterrier and Bergeret were pursued by the hooting of the youthful Nationalists of the place. CHAPTER IX On a wet evening in May, the Brécé ladies were sitting together in the big drawing-room, knitting woollen bodices for the poor children of the village. Old Madame de Courtrai was standing with her back to the fire, holding up her skirts and warming her legs. The Duke, General Cartier de Chalmot, and M. Lerond were chatting, prior to a game of whist. The Duke opened the previous day’s paper that was lying upon the table. “Hostilities between the Americans and the Spanish have not yet started in earnest,” he said. “What do you anticipate will be the outcome of it all, General? I should be very glad to have the opinion of so eminent a military authority as yourself.” “It would certainly be very instructive if you would tell us what you think about the forces that are about to try their strength in the Antilles and in the China seas, General,” put in M. Lerond. General Cartier de Chalmot passed his hand over his forehead, opened his mouth some time before he spoke, and then said in an authoritative manner: “The Americans have committed a very imprudent act in declaring war on Spain, and it may well cost them dear. Having no army and no navy, it would be a difficult matter for them to keep up a struggle against an efficient army and a well-trained navy. They have their stokers and their enginemen, but stokers and enginemen do not make a battle fleet.” “Do you think the Spaniards will win, General?” asked M. Lerond.