At the very first glance, with the instinct of a
rheumatic in mind and body, Vaucoux had classed Clerambault as one of
those pestilent persons who open doors and windows and make a draught
in that closed house, his Country. That is, as he understood the term,
in his mind there could be no other. After this there was no need for
the vociferations of the papers; in the author of "The Appeal to the
Living," and the "Pardon from the Dead," he saw at once an agent of
the enemy, and with his thirst for revenge, he knew the opportunity
had come.
Nothing can be more convenient than to detest those who differ from
you, especially when you do not understand them; but poor Clerambault
had not this resource, for he did understand perfectly. These good
people had had to bear injuries from the enemy; of course because they
were struck by them, but also frankly, because of Injustice with a
capital I; for in their short-sightedness it filled the field of
vision. The capacity to feel and judge is very limited in an ordinary
man; submerged as he is in the species, he clings to any driftwood;
and just as he reduces the infinite number of shades in the river of
light to a few colours, the good and evil that flow in the veins
of the world are only perceptible to him when he has bottled a few
samples, chosen among those around him.
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