this chaos, had just freed humanity from it; it was now for Gauvain to free the family from it.
What was he going to do?
Would Gauvain disappoint trust in God?
No. And he stammered in his inmost heart: "We must save Lantenac."
Well, that is good. Go on, help the English. Be a deserter. Pass over to the enemy. Save Lantenac and betray France.
And he shuddered.
Thy solution is no solution at all, oh dreamer! Gauvain saw in the darkness the ominous smile of the sphinx.
This situation was a sort of terrible meeting of roads, where struggling truths come to an end and confront each other, and where man's three highest ideas, humanity, the family, the fatherland, look each other steadily in the face.
Each of these voices in turn began to speak, and each in turn spoke the truth. How to choose? Each in turn seemed to find the union of wisdom and justice, and said: "Do this." Was this what he ought to do? Yes. No. Reason said one thing, sentiment said another; the two counsels were contrary. Reasoning is only reason; sentiment is often conscience; one comes from man, the other from above.
That is why sentiment has less clearness and more power.
But what strength in stern reason!
Gauvain hesitated.
Fierce perplexities.
Two abysses opened in front of Gauvain. To destroy the marquis? or to save him? It would be necessary to plunge into one or the other.
Which of these two abysses was duty?
