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      Monsieur Panneton de La Barge had prominent eyes and a shallow mind. But his skin was so shiny that you could not help thinking that his mind must of necessity be of a fatty nature. His whole being was eloquent of arrogance, brusqueness and a pride that apparently had no fear of being importunate. Monsieur Bergeret guessed that the man had come to ask a favour of him.

      They had known one another in the country. The professor, taking a walk beside the sluggish river, had often noted, on a green hillside, the slated roof of the château inhabited by Monsieur de La Barge and his family. Monsieur de La Barge himself he saw less frequently, for the latter was on visiting terms with the aristocracy of the countryside, without being sufficiently grand himself to receive the humbler folk. In the country he knew Monsieur Bergeret only on those critical days when one or another of his sons was going in for some examination; but now, in Paris, he wished to be friendly, and he made an effort to be so.

      “Dear Monsieur Bergeret, I must first of all congratulate you.”

      “Please do not trouble,” replied Monsieur Bergeret, with a little gesture of refusal that Monsieur de La Barge quite wrongly interpreted as inspired by modesty.

      “I beg your pardon, Monsieur Bergeret, a professorship at the Sorbonne is a much-coveted position, and one that you well deserve.”

      “How is your son Adhémar?” inquired Monsieur Bergeret, remembering the name as that of a candidate for the bachelor’s degree who had interested in his incompetence the authorities of civil, military and ecclesiastical society.

      “Adhémar? He is doing well, very well; a little wild perhaps, but what would you have? He has nothing to do. In some ways it might be better for him to have some settled occupation. However, he is very young; there is plenty of time; he takes after me; he will settle down once he has found his vocation.”

      “Didn’t he do a little demonstrating at Auteuil?” asked Monsieur Bergeret gently.

      “For the army, for the army,” answered Monsieur de La Barge, “and I must confess that I could not find it in my heart to blame him. It can’t be helped. I am connected with the army through my father-in-law, the general, my brothers-in-law, and my cousin, the commandant.”

      He was too modest to mention his father, the eldest of the Panneton brothers, who was also connected with the army through the supply department, and who, in 1872, as the result of an annoying charge in the police courts, was given a light sentence, for having supplied to the Army of the East, which was marching through the snow, shoes with cardboard soles.

      He died ten years later, in his château of La Barge, rich and honoured.

      “I was brought up to venerate the army,” continued Monsieur Panneton de La Barge. “When quite a child I worshipped a uniform. It is a family tradition. I do not attempt to hide the fact that I hold by the old style of things. I can’t help it, it is in my blood. I am a Monarchist and authoritarian by temperament. I am a Royalist. Now the army is all that is left us of the Monarchy; all that is left of a glorious past. It consoles us for the present and fills us with hope for the future.”

      Monsieur Bergeret might have interposed with some observations of historical interest; but he did not do so, and Monsieur de La Barge continued:

      “That is why I regard those who attack the army as criminals, and those who would dare to interfere with it as fools.”

      “When Napoleon wished to praise one of the plays of Luce de Lancival,” replied the professor, “he called it a headquarters tragedy. May I say that your philosophy is that of a General Staff? However, seeing that we live under the rule of liberty, it may perhaps be as well to conform to its customs. When one lives with men who have the habit of speech one must accustom oneself to hear anything. Do not hope that the right to discuss any subject will ever again be denied in France. Consider, too, that the army is by no means immutable; nothing in the world is that. Institutions can exist only by ceaseless modifications. The army has undergone such transformations in the course of its existence that it will probably undergo even greater changes in the future, and it is conceivable that in twenty years’ time it will be quite another thing than what it is to-day.”

      “I prefer to tell you at once,” replied Monsieur Panneton de La Barge, “that where the army is concerned I admit of no discussion. I repeat, it must not be interfered with. It represents, as it were, the battle-axe, and as such it must not be touched. During the last session of the Conseil Général of which I have the honour to be president, the Radical-Socialist minority put forward a vote in favour of two years’ service. I protested against so unpatriotic a suggestion. I had no difficulty in proving a two years’ service would mean the end of the army. You cannot make an infantryman in two years, much less a cavalryman. Perhaps you will style those who clamour for the two years’ service reformers. I call them wreckers. And it is the same with all other reforms. They are machinations directed against the army. If only the Socialists would say that their desire is to replace the army by a vast national guard, they would at least be honest.”

      “The Socialists,” replied Monsieur Bergeret, “are against all attempts at territorial conquest; they propose to organize militia solely for purposes of home defence. They do not hide their views, they spread them broadcast. And possibly their views are worth some examination. You need not fear that their desires will be too quickly realized. All progress is slow and uncertain, and is followed, more often than not, by retrograde movements. The advance toward a better order of things is vague and indeterminate. The profound and innumerable forces which chain man to the past cause him to cherish its errors, superstitions, prejudices and cruelties as precious symbols of his security. Salutary innovation terrifies him. Prudence makes him imitative, and he dare not quit the tumble-down shelter that protected his fathers and which is about to fall in upon him. Do you not agree with me, Monsieur Panneton?” inquired Monsieur Bergeret, with a charming smile.

      Monsieur Panneton de La Barge’s reply was that he defended the army. He represented it as misunderstood, persecuted and menaced, and in rising tones he continued:

      “This campaign in favour of the Traitor, obstinate and enthusiastic as it is, whatever may be the intentions of its leaders, has a certain visible and undeniable effect. It weakens the army and injures its chiefs.”

      “I am going to tell you some very simple facts,” replied Monsieur Bergeret. “If the army is attacked in the person of certain of its chiefs, that is not the fault of those who have asked for justice; it is the fault of those who have so long refused it. It is not the fault of those who demanded an explanation, but of those who have obstinately avoided one with extraordinary stupidity and abominable wickedness. After all, if crimes have been committed the evil is not that they have been made known but that they have been committed. They