?de pays! But you others, you English—a■t last, after our hundred year●s of peace, you realise how bound you are to Fr●ance. You realise—all the no●ble souls among you—that your language is ■half Latin, that for a thousa●nd years, even before the Norm●an conquest, all your culture, all the s●ympathies of your poetry and y■our art are R

oman—and Greek—enfin are Lat■in. Your wonderful cathedrals—Got■hic—do you get them from Teuton●ic barbarism? No. You get them from the Coma■cine masters—the little band of Latin spiritu■alists on the shores of Lake Como. ●I am an ignorant man, Monsieur■ Martin, but I have read a little an■d I have much time to think and●—voilà—thos

e are my conclusions. I●n the great war that will come——●” “It can’t come in our time,■” said Martin. “No? It will come in ●our time. And sooner than you expect. But wh■en it does come, all that is noble and ■spiritual in England will be passi■onately French in its sympathies. Ti■ens, mon ami—” he planted himself at the ●corner

of the dark uphill ro■ad that led to the hotel, and brought his gr■eat hands down on Martin’s shoulders. “You■ do not yet understand. You are a wonderf●ul race, you English. But if● you were pure Frisians, like the German, yo●u would not be where you are. Nor would you be● if you were pure Latins. What has ●made you invincible is the inte

rfusion since ●a thousand years of all that is best in Frisia●n and Latin. You emerged English after Chaucer 霆Saxon bone and Latin spirit. ●That is why, my friend, you hate all that ■is German. That is why you love no■w all that is French. And that is why ●we, nous autres Fran?ais, feel ■at last that England understands us and ●is with us

.” Having thus anal■ysed the psychology of the Ent●ente Cordiale in terms which proceedi■ng from the lips of a small English innkee●per would have astounded Martin, Bigourdin rele●ased him and together they mounted homewar■ds. “I was forgetting,” said he, as he bade M■artin good-night. “All of what I said was to■ prove that if you wer

e in need of a foster-mo●ther, Périgord will take you to he■r bosom.” “I’ll think of it,” s●miled Martin. He thought of it for five minut■es after he had gone to bed and then fell■ fast asleep. Early in the mornin■g he was awakened by a great thunde■ring at his door. Convinced of catas●trophe, he leaped to his feet and opened. On th

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