...
But perhaps it was not necessary to write it...."
"Not necessary? But if it is right, it must be necessary."
"But if it makes such a fuss!"
"That is no reason against it."
"But why stir people up?"
"Look here, my little girl, you think as I do about this, do you not?"
"Yes, Papa, I suppose so...."
"You only suppose?... Come now, you detest the war, as I do, and wish
it were over; everything that I wrote there I have said to you, and
you agreed...."
"Yes, Papa."
"Then you think I am right?"
"Yes, Papa." She put her arms around his neck, "but we don't have to
write everything that we think."
Clerambault, much depressed, tried to explain what seemed so evident
to him. Rosine listened, and answered quietly, but it was clear that
she did not understand. When he had finished, she kissed him again and
said:
"I have told you what I think, Papa, but it is not for me to judge.
You know much better than I."
With that she went into her room, smiling at her father, and not
in the least suspecting that she had just taken away from him his
greatest support.
This abusive attack was not the only one, for when the bell was once
tied on the cat it never ceased to ring. However, the noise would
have been drowned in the general tumult, if it had not been for
a persistent voice which led the chorus of malignity against
Clerambault.
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