He did not know exactly what had
happened, but he guessed that Rosine had thrown him and his ideas
overboard--sweetly of course, but still,--the lovers had made it up at
their parents' expense, and both had blamed with admirable justice the
old people's exaggerations on either side. The years in the trenches
had emancipated Daniel from the narrow fanaticism of his family,
without impairing his patriotism, and Rosine in exchange had gently
admitted that her father had been mistaken. They agreed with little
difficulty, for she was naturally calm and fatalistic, which suited
perfectly with Daniel's stoical acceptance of things as they were.
They had decided, therefore, to go through life together, without
paying any more attention to the disagreements of those who had come
before them, as the saying is--though it would be more exact to say,
those whom they were leaving behind them. The future also troubled
them little; like millions of other human beings they only asked their
share of happiness at the moment and shut their eyes to everything
else.
Madame Clerambault was annoyed that her daughter said nothing of the
events of the morning, and soon went out again; Rosine and her father
sat dreamily, he by the window, smoking, and she with an unread
magazine before her.
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