“Taste this cognac, it is very palatable! In a short time it will fetch twenty francs a litre; there will be only ourselves who will drink it for nothing, my son!” “You will drink of it, perhaps, father,” said Elias, troubled. “But I—” “What! You? What is the meaning of this?” “Shall I be by your side when the cost of this good liquor has mounted to that price?” “Well! Where will you be?” “Where all the youths of the village are—in the army.” “You in the army, Elias; what will you do there?” “Fight, like the others.” Old Moses, by the light of the candle, which lit the cellar, looked at his son in utter bewilderment. He could not believe his own ears. Still he said— “Fight? Why fight?” “To defend the country.” “What country?” “France, where I have lived and been brought up, whose language I speak, and where all our clients and friends are.” Old Lichtenbach shook his head, and remained a moment without speaking. Then, in trenchant tones, he said— “My son, we do business in this country, but we have not been born here. I was in Switzerland, with your mother, in Geneva, when you came into the world. My birthplace is Hanover, your mother’s Baden. Your name appears on no official register, and you are free to do what you like. We are German by birth, French by habit and everyday relations; we belong no more to one side than to the other. The best thing we can do is to keep out of the quarrel. What could we gain by fighting? Blows for you, pain and suffering for both of us. And how would it benefit any one, if Elias Lichtenbach were killed in battle, and old Moses were left to finish his life all alone? Does any one even know why all these people are fighting? Do they even know themselves? They have quarrelled, like tipplers on leaving the grog-shop after having absorbed more than is good for them. And now they fly at one another’s throats. What have the Germans done to you to make you want to fight them? What advantage will you gain from having defended the French?” “But all the young men are off, father. Antoine Graff, whom I have just met, has received his papers.” “He is a fool!” “But the son of Rabbi Zacharias is also going.” “Great good may he get from it!” “To-morrow there will only be left in the town the aged and infirm. I shall be the only one remaining, and everybody will laugh me to scorn.”