The Frontier

Philippe grew irritable:

"Well, what has it to do with you? You had a letter from me yesterday, offering you an explanation. You have not even troubled to reply! Very well! I have done you an irreparable wrong. Our whole married life is shattered by my fault. Your attitude up to the present shows me that you never mean to forgive me… Then what right have you to call me to account for what I do?"

She repeated, in a low voice, with fixed eyes:

"You intend to desert…"

"Yes."

"Is it really credible? I knew your ideas against war … all the ideas in your books … which agree with my own… But I never thought of this… You never spoke to me of it… And then, no … I could never have believed it…"

"You will have to believe it, for all that, Marthe."

He turned to the door. Once again she stood up in front of him.

"Let me pass," he said.

"No."

"You are mad!"

"Listen to me … Philippe…"

"I refuse to listen. This is not the time for quarrelling. I have made up my mind to go. I will go. It is not a rash impulse. It is a decision taken silently and calmly. Let me pass."

He tried to clear the door. She pushed him back, suddenly seized with an energy which became all the fiercer as she felt her husband to be more inflexible. She had only a few minutes; and that was what frightened her. In those few minutes, by means of phrases, poor phrases flung out at random, she had to win the battle and to win it against a foe with whose mettle and obstinacy she was well acquainted.

"Let me pass," he repeated.

"Well, then, no, no, no!" she cried. "You shall not desert! No, you shall not do that infamous thing! There are things that one can't do… This thing, Philippe, is monstrous!.. Listen, Philippe, listen while I tell you…"

She went up to him and, under her breath:

"Listen, Philippe … listen to this confession… Philippe, you know what you did on Sunday, your cruelty to your father, to Suzanne, to all of us: well, yes, I understood it… I suffered the pangs of death, I suffered more than any of the others… Each word that you spoke burnt into me like fire… But, all the same, Philippe, I understood… You had to sacrifice us to the cause of peace. It was your right, it was your duty to victimize us all in order that you might save a whole nation… But what you now propose to do… Oh, the shame of it!.. Listen, if you did that … I should think of you as one thinks of … I don't know what … as one thinks of the most contemptible, the most revolting …"

Shrugging his shoulders impatiently, he interrupted her:

"I can't help it if you do not understand. It is my right … and my duty also…"

"Your duty is to join your regiment, now that war is declared, and to fight, yes, to fight for France, like every other Frenchman … like the first peasant that comes along, who may tremble with all his poor human flesh, it is true, and whose heart sinks within him and whose stomach turns cold, but who believes that his duty lies in being there … and who goes ahead, come what may! March on, as he does, Philippe! I have accepted all your opinions, I have shared them and backed them… If there is to be an end of our union, at least let me address this last entreaty to you: join your regiment!.. Your place is over there…"

"My place is anywhere except where men commit the odious act of killing," exclaimed Philippe, who had listened to her in spite of himself and who now suddenly collected himself. "My place is with my friends. They trust me and I trust them. They are the men whom I must join."

"Where? In Paris?"

"No. We swore, at the first signal, to meet at Zurich. From there, we shall issue a manifesto calling upon all the thinkers and all the men of independent views in Germany and France."

"But no one will answer your appeal!"

"Never mind! The appeal will have gone forth. The world will have heard the protest of a few free men, professors like myself, tutors, writers, men who reflect, men who act in accordance with their convictions, and not like animals led to the slaughter."

"You must defend your country," said Marthe, seeking to gain time, in the hope that something would come to her assistance.

"I must defend my ideas!" declared Philippe. "If my country chooses to commit an act of folly, that is no reason why I should follow her. What nonsense it is, these two great nations, the most civilized in the world, going to war because they can't agree about the arrest of a petty official, or because one of them wants to eat up Morocco and the other is incensed at not being invited to the banquet! And, for that, they are going to fly at each other's throats, like wild beasts! To scatter mourning and misery on every side! No, I refuse to take part in it! These hands, Marthe, these hands shall not kill! I have brothers in Germany as well as France. I have no enmity against them. I will not kill them."

She pretended to listen to his arguments with attention, knowing that, in this way, she would detain him a little longer. And she said:

"Ah, your German brothers, whether they feel enmity or not, you may be sure that they will march against France! Is not your love for her the greater?"

"Yes, yes, I love her, but just for the very reason that she is the most generous and noble of countries, that in her alone the idea of revolt against the law of blood and war can take root and sprout and blossom."

"You will be treated as a coward."

"To-day, perhaps … but, in ten years, in twenty years, we shall be treated as heroes. Our names will be quoted as the names of the benefactors of humanity. And it will be France again that shall have had that honour … through us! Through me!"

"But your name will be reviled during your lifetime."

"Reviled by those whom I despise, by those who have the cast of mind of that captain – though he's one of the best of them – who laughs and jokes when he is sent to certain death, he and his company."

Marthe answered indignantly:

"It's the laughter of a Frenchman, Philippe, of a Frenchman hiding his anguish under a little light chaff. A glorious laughter, which forms the pride of our race!"

"One does not laugh in the presence of the death of others."

"Yes, Philippe, when it is to hide the danger from them and to keep all the horror and all the terror for one's self alone… Listen, Philippe!.."

The sound of firing came from the distance, on the other side of the house. For some seconds, there was an uninterrupted crackle of musketry; then it came at rarer intervals; and, presently, there was no sound at all.

Marthe whispered:

"The first shot fired in the war, Philippe… They are fighting on the frontier… It's your country they are defending… France is in danger… Oh, doesn't your heart quiver like the heart of a son? Don't you feel the wounds they are giving her … the wounds they intend to give her?.."

He wore his attitude of suffering, keeping his arms crossed stiffly over his chest and half-closing his eyes. He answered, sorrowfully:

"Yes, yes, I feel those wounds… But why is she fighting? For what mad love of glory? Is she not intoxicated with successes and conquests? Remember our journey through Europe… Wherever we went, we found traces of her passage: cemeteries and charnel-houses to bear witness that she was the great victress. Isn't that enough of conquests and triumphs?"

"But, fool that you are," cried Marthe, "she is not trying to conquer! She is defending herself! Picture this vision, for a moment: France invaded once more … France dismembered … France wiped from the face of the earth…"

"But no, no," he said, with a gesture of protest, "there is no question of that!"

"Yes, there is, there is a question of that: it's a question of life or death to her… And you, you are deserting!"

Philippe did not stir. Marthe felt that he was, if not shaken, at least anxious, uneasy. But, suddenly, he uncrossed his arms and, striking the table with his fist:

"I must! I must! I promised to!.. And I was right to promise! And I will keep my oath! What you call deserting is fighting, but fighting the real fight! I too am going to wage war, but it will be the war of independence and brains; and my comrades in heroism are waiting for me. There, Marthe, I won't listen to you any longer!"

She glued her back to the door, with her arms outstretched: