"However, I cannot leave you in ignorance of the kind of difficulties and disillusions you are going to encounter. It is my duty. Jean, my Jean, when you have passed the frontier and claimed the qualification of Frenchman according to the law, and finished your year's military service.--What will you do?"
"I shall always be able to earn my bread."
"Do not count too much on that. Do not think that the French will welcome you with favour because you are Alsatian. They have perhaps forgotten that we----In any case, they are like those who owe a very old pension. Do not imagine that they will help you over there more than any one else."
"My mind is made up--whatever happens. Do not speak to me about it any more, will you?"
Then Uncle Ulrich--who was caressing his grey, pointed beard as if to get out his words spoken against the dear land, words that were coming out with such difficulty--was silent, and looked at his nephew a long time with his smile of complicity, which grew and spread. And he finished by saying:
"Now that I have done my duty and have not succeeded, I have the right to acknowledge, Jean, that sometimes I had this same idea. What would you say if I followed you to France?"
"Not immediately. The only interest I had in living here was in seeing you growing up and continuing the tradition. That is all shattered. Do you know what will be one of the best means of insuring yourself against a cold welcome?"
Jean was too agitated by the gravity of the immediate resolution to take up time in talking about future plans.
"Listen, Uncle Ulrich, in a few days I shall want you. I have told you about my decision precisely that you might help me."
He rose, went towards the library, which was by the entrance-door, took a staff officer's map and came, unfolding it, towards the sofa.
"Sit down again by me, uncle, and let us do some geography together!"
He spread on his knees the map of the frontier of Lower Alsace.
"I have made up my mind to go this way," he said. "There will be a few inquiries to be made."
Uncle Ulrich nodded his head in sign of approval, interested as if it were some plan for a hunt, or an approaching battle.
"Good place," he said, "Grande Fontaine, les Minières. It seems to me that that is the nearest frontier line to Strasburg. Who told you this?"