ight it out. It is the pacifists' fault that it has dragged on so long."
"You might almost say that they were the cause of it; the boches counted on them. Without those fools there wouldn't have been any war." Clerambault lying there half-unconscious, thought of the old woman who threw her fagot on the wood stacked around John Huss ... _Sancta simplicitas._
Vaucoux had not attempted to get away, but let them take the revolver out of his hand without resistance. They held his arms fast, and he stood looking at his victim, whose eyes met his; each thought of his son.
Moreau, much excited, spoke threateningly to Vaucoux; who, like an impassive image of hatred, only answered briefly: "I have killed the Adversary, the Enemy."
A faint smile hovered on Clerambault's lips as he looked at Vaucoux. "My poor friend," he thought, "It is within you yourself that the Enemy lies,"--his eyes closed ... centuries seemed to pass.... "There are no enemies...." and Clerambault entered into the peace of the worlds to
