Paris: The Novel

his hand on his sister’s wrist. But it did no good. “It’s true, Jules,” she cried. “Everybody knows it.”
    No one spoke. Roland had no wish to respond, but it seemed he couldn’t avoid it.
    “Dreyfus was not on trial for his religion, madame, but for passing secret information to a foreign power. He is suffering on Devil’s Island. If he is innocent, then I am sorry for it. But no one has proved that it is so. That is the truth, pure and simple. What I resent in this business hardly concerns Dreyfus himself, guilty or not. It is Zola that I resent. Because he seeks to undermine the reputation and the honor of the army. And the army together with the Church are the two institutions in France which are above reproach. I say this not as an aristocrat, nor even as an officer and a Catholic, but as a soldier, a Christian and a patriot.”
    Gérard Blanchard gave a murmur of approval. So did his wife. Jules too nodded, out of respect and good manners, at the least.
    “Do you make any distinction between a Jew and a Christian?” Aunt Éloïse asked quietly.
    “Certainly, madame. They follow different faiths.”
    “And you think that Zola should be in jail as well?”
    “It would not worry me if he were.”
    “In America,” said Aunt Éloïse to Hadley, “you have free speech. Your constitution guarantees it. Despite the Revolution, it seems that we in France do not, and I am ashamed of my country.”
    Hadley said nothing. But Roland did.
    “I am sorry that you are ashamed of France, madame,” he said icily. “Perhaps you and Captain Dreyfus and Zola could find some other country, more to your liking.”
    “I don’t think it’s necessary to elevate all this to a question of principle,” remarked Gérard. “I don’t know if Zola had broken the law or not by writing his letter. If he has, then that’s for the courts to decide. And if there’s no crime, then they won’t. That’s all. It’s not so serious.”
    For once, Gérard was actually trying to be helpful. It didn’t do him any good.
    “My dear Gérard, you run a business very well, I’m sure,” said AuntÉloïse irritably, “but I have known you all your life, and you wouldn’t know a moral principle if it came up and smacked you in the face.”
    “And you, Tante Éloïse, live in a little world of your own,” Gérard retorted furiously. “May I remind you that it was our family’s wholesale business that made the money that allows you to sit around all day reading books and thinking yourself superior to the rest of us.”
    “This has nothing to do with Dreyfus,” said Aunt Éloïse coldly.
    “Well, I’m with Monsieur de Cygne anyway,” said Gérard. “I don’t say all Jews are traitors, but this is a Christian country, so they can’t feel the same as we do. That’s all.”
    And now, to avoid any more bloodshed before the situation got completely out of hand, Jules Blanchard put his foot down. To be precise, he rapped on the table and stood up, because it was the only way of getting their undivided attention, and then he made a little speech.
    It was a good speech. And it proved in the months and years ahead to be more prescient than he could have guessed.
    “Monsieur de Cygne, Hadley, Fox and my dear family. This is my house, and for myself and my wife, I demand that this discussion end. Completely. But there is something more to say.
    “Today, we have very nearly quarreled. We have not quarreled”—he looked at Gérard and Éloïse sternly—“but we have nearly done so. And let us be grateful that from this we have learned an important lesson. For if the people here—who are all kind, and well mannered—can come so close to blows, then I wonder what will happen when other, less well-disposed people discuss this difficult subject.
    “Three days ago, when I read Zola’s letter, I confess that I was surprised and shocked. But I did not understand the effect it would have upon people. Now I believe that this letter is going to create a great chasm in our French society. It may tear us apart. And whatever the rights or wrongs of the matter, I regret the destruction of good relations between honest people.
    “So at the least let us all learn”—he looked around the whole table and smiled—“that this is a subject for carefully controlled debate, but that none of us will ever allow ourselves to discuss it at any lunch or dinner party again. Because if we do, we shall inevitably lose all our friends!”
    Even