conflict was immediate. Between Morestal and Philippe, the duel set in at once. The events of the previous days had cleared the way for it: at the first word, they stood up to each other like irreconcilable adversaries, the father spirited and aggressive, the son anxious and sad, but inflexible.
Le Corbier at once foresaw a scene. He went out of the tent, ordered the sentry to stand away, made sure that the group of Germans could not hear the sound of the raised voices. Then, after carefully closing the fly, he returned to his place.
"You are mad! You are mad!" said Morestal, who had come up to his son. "How dare you?"
And Jorancé joined in:
"Come, come, Philippe ... this is not serious.... You are not going to back out, to
Le Corbier silenced them and, addressing Philippe:
"Explain yourself, monsieur," he said. "I do not understand."
Philippe looked at his father again and, slowly, in a voice which he strove to render firm as he spoke, answered:
"I say, monsieur le ministre, that certain particulars in my evidence are not accurate and that it is my duty to correct them."
"Speak, monsieur," said the under-secretary, with some harshness.
Philippe did not hesitate. Facing old Morestal, who was quivering with indignation, he began, as though he were in a hurry to get it over:
"First of all, Private Baufeld did not say things that were quite as clear as those which I repeated. The words used were obscure and incoherent."
"What! Why, your declarations are precise...."
"Monsieur le ministre, when I gave my evidence for the first time before the examining-magistrate, I was under the shock of my father's arrest. I was under his influence. It seemed to me that the incident would have no consequences if the arrest had been effected on German territory; and, when relating Private Baufeld's last words, in spite of myself, without knowing it, I interpreted them in the sense of my own wishes. Later on, I understood my mistake. I am now repairing it."
He stopped. The under-secretary turned over his papers, no doubt read through Philippe's evidence and asked:
"As far as concerns Private Baufeld, have you nothing to add?"
Philippe's legs seemed on the point of giving way beneath him, so much so that Le Corbier asked him to sit down.
He obeyed and, mastering himself, said:
"Yes, I have. I have a revelation to make in this respect which is very painful to me. My father evidently attached no importance to it; but it seems to
"What do you mean?" cried Morestal.
"Oh, father, I beseech you!" entreated Philippe, folding his hands together. "We are not here to quarrel, nor to judge each other, but to do our duty. Mine is horrible. Do not discourage me. You shall condemn me afterwards, if you see cause."
"I condemn you as it is, Philippe."
Le Corbier made an imperious gesture and repeated, in a yet more peremptory tone:
"Speak, M. Philippe Morestal."
Philippe said, bringing the words out very quickly:
"Monsieur le ministre, Private Baufeld had relations on this side of the frontier. His desertion was prepared, backed up. He knew the safe road which he was to take."
"Through whom did he know it?"
Philippe lowered his head and, with half-closed eyes, whispered:
"Through my father!"
"That's not true!" shouted old Morestal, purple with rage. "That's not true! I prepare ...
"Here is the paper which I found in Private Baufeld's pocket," said Philippe, handing a sheet of note-paper to Le Corbier. "It gives a sort of plan of escape, the road which the fugitive is to follow, the exact spot at which he is to cross the frontier so as to avoid the watchers."
"What are you saying? What are you daring to say? A correspondence between me and that wretch!"
"The two words, 'Albern Path,' are in your hand-writing, father, and it was through the Albern Path that the deserter entered France. The sheet is a sheet of your own note-paper."
Morestal gave a bound:
"And you took it from the waste-paper basket, where it lay torn and crumpled! You did a thing like that, you, my son! You had the
"Oh, father!"
"Then what? Answer!"
"Private Baufeld gave it me before his death."
Morestal was standing opposite Philippe, with his arms crossed over his chest, and, so far from defending himself against his son's accusations, seemed rather to be addressing a culprit.