While the peasants of Beaucourt cast Louis Blanc out into the wilderness, two people were sitting beside Paul Brent’s bed, a man and a woman. The man had a despatch box on his knees, and he was using it as a desk upon which to write. The woman was holding Paul’s hands, and smiling at him with eyes of tenderness and of tranquillity.
The man who was writing raised his white head. He smiled, and passed the paper to Manon. With their heads together on the pillow they read what Georges Clemenceau had written in that room whose window overlooked the garden.
“I ask you to be generous to Paul Brent. Let him return to us soon, for I wish to be present at his marriage. He will make a good Frenchman, for he knows how to work.
“Georges Clemenceau.”
