He developed his idea, showing us that these frontier people were more chauvinistic than us, apparently, more warlike, and more nervous. It was they who had suffered most from the invasion in 1870, so that there was nothing more natural than that they should flag quickly at the arrival of a second disaster. They were always the first to suffer. And how easy it was to get into the habit of thinking of the enemy as insatiable and invincible, everlastingly stretching out its claws over their territory. And again he made game of our classic education which assuredly must temper the character by the obscure recollection it propagates of so many traits of heroism, of so many noble passions! But he interrupted himself, fearing to be too sweeping: "For that matter, there are heaps of first-rate fellows among these schoolmasters!" We knew some, but not as many as he did! He quoted various names. Hermeline in the 18th had died heroically the other day, defending the bridge at Cléry. One evening our intercourse assumed a philosophic complexion. I amused myself by inveigling Guillaumin into insidious discussions. He fought hard, and appealed several times to De Valpic whose courteous decisions struck me by their perspicuity; and also to the highmindedness they seemed to bear witness to. And yet they must necessarily be inspired by some moral philosophy--Which? It will be remembered that the very sound of the word used to importunate me. Once started, I sketched the outline of my late doctrines. I was curious to see with what dialectics my companions would oppose those I had so often proved irrefutable. I pressed them. I showed the logic of integral egoism, the impossibility for man to create any duty other than his happiness. "What do you think about it, De Valpic?" He quietly remarked that moral philosophy in his eyes was one with religion. "Which religion?" "I only know of one!" This steadfastness did not displease me. I was not ignorant of his principles. I had seen him, the very day before, during our stay at Hazaumont, leave us to go and see a priest and communicate. Was his belief irrational--foolish? But at these fateful junctures, were not certain sublime follies our only stays? CHAPTER V A SHADOW ON THE PICTURE It was fortunate that we were three friends, three brothers, each less devoted to himself than to the others. How lonely it would have been otherwise! In billets we sometimes happened to come across friends from other companies: Laraque, Ladmirault, or Holveck. There would be a handshake, and a few words, no more, and then we separated. They on their side lived for themselves. The breach between us and the other N.C.O.'s was widening.