“My dear uncle,” he began, “you are one of those old-timers who start up crusades everywhere and tilt at windmills. You don’t accomplish anything by ruining yourself. You ought to look at things in a more practical light. This very moment Maurice is blackmailing you with his ‘honour.’ Mrs. Frasne’s honour isn’t worth one hundred thousand francs. My nice cousin is blustering in his prison. When he comes into court he’ll sing smaller. I’m not a lawyer, but I’ve often read the accounts of criminal trials in the newspapers, as every one does now. Even the most obstinate prisoners will turn on their victim or accomplices at the last moment to save themselves. The fear of an unfavourable verdict is the beginning of wisdom for them. Maurice is an intelligent boy, with everything to live for: he’ll understand. If by any chance he doesn’t, well, so much the worse for him, after all. It’s a sad thing to say before you, uncle, and I’m very sorry for it; but he would have it so, and I know you like frankness. His danger is all his own. A family isn’t jointly and severally responsible for the faults of one member. That’s one of those absurd theories that have been definitely relegated to the past in our day. ‘Each one for himself,’ is the new motto. No account’s taken of another’s debts, whether it’s your father or your brother or your son. If I earn money, it’s mine, and my good and bad acts are mine. There’s plenty of work looking out for your own happiness, without adding the terrible weight of twenty generations to it. Advance Maurice’s share to him if you insist on it, but hold back his brothers’ and sisters’, and something for yourself in your old age. As for La Vigie, I’d sell it as a matter of fact, if you can get a good price for it, not to buy the jury’s sympathy with it, but because land’s no good any more except to some peasant who worries it like a rat. Industry, machines--that’s the future, for individuals and for society, too.” Old Uncle Stephen, upon this harangue, let out a little sharp laugh, and mumbled: “He talks well. A little long-winded, but he talks well.” The widow, for her part, much agitated, put her hands together and implored the Lord’s assistance. “You have finished?” asked Mr. Roquevillard, not without a hint of rudeness. “I’m through.” “If I’ve understood you correctly then, you’d be perfectly willing to throw Maurice overboard.” “Excuse me, uncle; he jumps overboard. If he were reasonable, he could easily enough get out of the law’s clutches, safe and sound. But he doesn’t want to be reasonable. I’m always for being reasonable, myself.” The head of the family turned toward his son-in-law. “And you, Charles, are you also reasonable?”