“Well, Billot, if honest people, if you, if I, if Maillard, if Hullin, if Elie, if Necker, if Bailly, if Lafayette should withdraw, who would carry on the work? Why, those wretches, those assassins, those villains whom I have pointed out to you,—the agents, the agents of Mr. Pitt!”
“Try to answer that, Father Billot,” said Pitou, convinced of the justice of the doctor’s argument.
“Well, then,” replied Billot, “we will arm ourselves, and shoot these villains down as if they were dogs.”
“Wait a moment; who will arm themselves?”
“Everybody.”
“Billot, Billot! remember one thing, my good friend, and it is this, that what we are doing at this moment is called—what do you call what we are now doing, Billot?”
“Talking politics, Monsieur Gilbert.”
“Well! in politics there is no longer any absolute crime; one is a villain or an honest man, as we favor or thwart the interests of the man who judges us. Those whom you call villains will always give some specious reasons for their crimes; and to many honest people, who may have had a direct or an indirect interest in the commission of these crimes, these very villains will appear honest men also. From the moment that we reach that point, Billot, we must beware. There will then be men to hold the plough-handle. It will move onward, Billot; it will move onward, and without us.”
“It is frightful,” said the farmer; “but if it moves onward without us, where will it stop?”
“God only knows!” exclaimed Gilbert; “as to myself, I know not.”
“Well, then, if you do not know,—you who are a learned man, Monsieur Gilbert,—I, who am an ignoramus, cannot be expected to know anything of the matter. I augur from it—”
“Well, what do you augur from it? Let us hear.”
“I augur from it that what we had better do—I mean Pitou and myself—is to return to the farm. We will again take to the plough, the real plough,—that of iron and wood, with which we turn up the earth, and not the one of flesh and blood, called the French people, and which is as restive as a vicious horse. We will make our corn grow instead of shedding blood, and we shall live free, joyous, and happy as lords in our own domain. Come with us; come with us, Monsieur Gilbert I The deuce! I like to know where I am going!”
“One moment, my stout-hearted friend,” cried Gilbert. “No, I know not whither I am going. I have told you so, and I repeat it to you; however, I still go on, and I will continue to do so. My duty is traced out to me; my life belongs to God; but my works are the debt which I shall pay to my country. If my conscience says to me, ‘Go on, Gilbert, you are in the right road; go on,’ that is all that I require. If I am mistaken, men will punish me; but God will absolve me.”
“But sometimes men punish those who are not mistaken. You said so yourself just now.”
“And I say it again. It matters not, I persist, Billot; be it an error or not, I shall go on. To guarantee that the events will not prove my inability, God forbid that I should pretend to do so! But before all, Billot, the Lord has said, ‘Peace be to the man of good intentions!’ Therefore, be one of those to whom God has promised peace. Look at Monsieur de Lafayette, in America as well as France; this is the third white charger he has worn out, without counting those he will wear out in future. Look at Monsieur de Bailly, who wears out his lungs. Look at the king, who wears out his popularity. Come, come, Billot, let us not be egotistical. Let us also wear ourselves out a little. Remain with me, Billot.”
“But to do what, if we do not prevent evil being done?”
“Billot, remember never to repeat those words; for I should esteem you less. You have been trampled under foot, you have received hard fisticuffs, hard knocks from the butt-ends of muskets, and even from bayonets, when you wished to save Foulon and Berthier.”