There was a sort of entreaty in the old man's voice, a desperate appeal to Philippe's better feelings. His anger almost fell, so great was his unhappiness at seeing his son, his boy, a prey to this madness. "You mean that, don't you?" he resumed, gently. "You mean that monsieur le ministre can and must abide by my declarations?" "No," said Philippe, stubbornly. Morestal started: "No? But why? What reason have you for answering like that? Why should you?" "Because, father, though the nature of your declarations has not varied, your attitude, during the last three days, proves that you are experiencing a certain reticence, a certain hesitation." "What makes you say that?" asked Morestal, trembling all over, but as yet retaining his self-control. "Your certainty is not absolute." "How do you know? If you make an accusation, you must prove it." "I am not making an accusation. I am trying to state my exact impression." "Your impression! What is that worth beside the facts? And it is facts that I am asserting." "Facts interpreted by yourself, father, facts of which you cannot be sure. No, no, you cannot! Remember, the other morning, Friday morning, we came back here and, while you were once more showing me the road which you had covered, you said, 'Still, suppose I were mistaken! Suppose we had branched off more to the right! Suppose I were mistaken!'" "That was an exaggeration of scruple! All my acts, on the contrary, all my reflections ..." "There was no need to reflect! There was not even any need to return to this road! The fact that you returned to it shows that you were harassed by a doubt." "I have not doubted for one second." "You believe that you do not doubt, father! You believe blindly in your certainty! And you believe because you do not see clearly. You have within you a sentiment that soars above all your thoughts and all your actions, an admirable sentiment, a sentiment that makes you great: it is your love for France. You think that France is always in the right against one and all, come what may, and that she would be disgraced if she were ever in the wrong. That was the frame of mind in which you gave your evidence before the examining-magistrate. And that is the frame of mind which I ask you, monsieur le ministre, to take note of." "And you," shouted old Morestal, bursting out at last, "I accuse you of being impelled by some horrible sentiment against your father, against your country, by I can't say what infamous ideas...." "My ideas are outside the question...." "Your ideas, which I can guess, are at the back of your conduct and of your mental aberration. If I love France too well, you, you are too ready to forget your duty to her."