But I know that I am asking too
much."
"Only what is impossible," said Moreau. "When you begin to will, you
cannot stop halfway. There are just two sorts of men, those who have
too great will-power--like Lenine, and a couple of dozen men in the
whole course of history--and those who have too little, who can decide
nothing, like us, me, if you like. It is clear enough, despair is all
that drives me to will anything...."
"Why despair?" said Clerambault. "A man's fate is made every day by
himself, and none knows what it will be; it is what we are. If you are
cast down, so also is your fate."
"We shall never have strength enough," answered Moreau sadly. "Don't
you believe that I see what infinitely small chances of success a
revolution would have now in our country, under present conditions?
Think of all the destruction, the economic losses, the demoralisation,
the fatal lassitude caused by the war." And he added: "It was not true
what I told you the first time we met, about all my comrades feeling
as I did, rebelling against the suffering. Gillot told you there are
only a few of us, and the others are good fellows for the most part
but weak as water! They can see how things are, clearly enough, but
sooner than run their heads against a wall they would rather not think
about it, or pass it off with a joke.
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