“The proprietor of the café. To whom should he send it? He brought it himself, and by way of argument he simply said, ‘The boy had some of it.’ My son was a partaker as well as my father; I am responsible, since, for my part, I believe in the solidarity of the family. I paid for Casenave, whose body bears already the promise of a drunkard’s death; for Gallus and Merinos, poor wretches, incapable of the slightest work; for that idle Galurin and that scoundrel Martinod. Paying is of no consequence--I have been through worse than that, as you know. But what errors have you taught this child? I must know all, now, that I may uproot them from his heart like weeds from the garden. Where is he going? What will he make of his life with that utopia of liberty to which every hour of real life gives the lie--without the stern discipline of home, without our faith? Don’t you know that what maintains our race, every race, is the spirit of the family? Has not life taught you that?” I was moved by the tone in which he spoke. Always sensitive to the melody of words, I caught them as they were uttered, and by them I can now easily rise to the ideas which they expressed but which then passed over my head. “Have you finished?” asked grandfather, with an impertinence that moved me to admiration. “Yes, I have finished. I beg pardon for having raised my voice in the presence of this child. He should at least know--you can bear witness to that--that I have always been a respectful son.” “Oh, you have paid my debts. And you are still paying them.” “Is that all? And have you not at all times had the support of my filial affection?” “Of your protection.” “My protection is extended only to shield you from those who desire your ruin. And can’t you understand that in withdrawing this child from my authority, disarming him for future conflicts, you are preparing the way for the ruin of us all?” Grandfather exclaimed, “Oh! oh!”--and went on in his turn: “I should like to know what you are blaming me for. I took the boy to walk when he needed it, and instilled into him the love of nature.” “And not the love of his home.” “Is it my fault that he prefers my society? I never try to teach, for my part--I don’t go about preaching at all times and seasons subordination, tradition, the principles of religion. I simply have respect for life, for liberty if you prefer the word.” “But liberty is not life. It destroys everything that should be preserved.” “Oh, don’t let us go over that discussion. What has happened to your son happened to mine.” “To me?” “Yes, to you. When you were little another influence was substituted for mine. The magistrate, the nurseryman, the lover of roses--” “Your father.” “Yes; he gave you a taste for trimmed trees, raked alleys, for laws, human and divine, and what more!” “Why do you lay it up against me that I am like all our race?” “I saw you changing under my very eyes. Do you know whether I too did not suffer to see it?”