When Gillot was talking to Lagneau, his arguments were exactly
contrary to those he had advanced on the previous day to Clerambault.
It was not only that his ideas had changed, but apparently his whole
disposition. One morning there would be nothing violent enough for his
thirst for action and destruction, and the next he would talk about
going into a little business with lots of money, the best of food, a
tribe of children to bring up, and to hell with the rest! Though they
all called themselves sincere internationalists, there were few
among these poilus who had not preserved the old French prejudice of
superiority of race over the rest of the world, enemies or friends;
and even in their own country over the other provinces, or if they
were Parisians, over the rest of France. This idea was firmly embedded
in their minds, and they boasted of it, not maliciously but by way of
a joke. Uncomplaining, willing, always ready to go, like Gillot, they
were certainly capable of making a revolution and then un-making it,
starting another, and so on--tra-la-la--till all was upset and they
were ready to be the prey of the first adventurer who happened along.
Our political foxes know well enough that the best way to check a
revolution is, at the right moment, to let it blow over while the
people are amused.
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