“Well, he may, or he may not. But because he said he didn’t believe in God, the Republican politicians of France thought he couldn’t be a monarchist, and so they trusted him, and made him a minister. Now they have discovered not only that he has a big public following, but he has the backing of both the monarchists, including important members of the royal family, and of the Bonapartists, including members of the emperor’s family. So the Catholic monarchists and the followers of Napoléon are all on the same side supporting a man who may or may not believe in God. What do you make of that?”

“I don’t know.”

His father smiled.

“Well, nor do I, my boy. I wonder what Father Xavier thinks. We must ask him.” And this thought seemed to amuse the vicomte even more, for he burst out laughing.

Roland wished his father wouldn’t mix things up in this way. He tried to get back to something with a simpler answer.

“The old man said we should avenge the dishonor of 1870,” he said. “Do you agree with that?”

“The War of 1870 was an act of stupidity,” his father answered. “It was we who started it. Napoléon III was a fool, and the Germans took advantage of it.”

“But shouldn’t we avenge our dishonor?”

“Who knows? Probably not.”

Roland gave up. He would never get a simple answer out of his father. At least, not in his present mood. They had passed the Louvre now, and were approaching the old Châtelet. Yet there was something he still wanted to know. Something he’d often wondered, but never asked before.

“Papa,” he said, “can I ask you a question?”

“Certainly.”

“Why did you leave the army?”

And this time, he could see, his father was not so comfortable answering.

“I’d served for years. And someone had to look after the estate. It needed my care.” He was silent again for a little while. “The War of 1870 was terrible, you know.”

“You mean, losing to the Germans?”

“Not that so much.” His father fell silent for a minute. “It was the fighting afterward, against the Commune … A civil war is a terrible thing, my son. May you never live to see one.”

“Father Xavier told me that the Communards did unspeakable things. He says that in the final week, they killed the archbishop of Paris and massacred innocent monks and priests in cold blood. He said they were martyred, just like the priests in the Revolution.”

“It’s true.” His father nodded. “And we killed a lot of Communards, too, you know. Thousands.”

“But they were in the wrong.”

“Probably.” He shook his head. “I dare say they thought they were fighting for Liberty, Equality and Fraternity.”

“And disorder.”

“That, too, no doubt.”

“Did you kill many Communards?” Roland asked.

There was a silence.

“Let us speak of other things,” the vicomte said.