"We should have done just the same.

'My country, right or wrong.' After all, it is an ideal." A dark, black-bearded man raised himself painfully upon his elbow.

He was a tailor in the Rue Parnesse, and prided himself on a decided resemblance to Victor Hugo.
"It's a noble ideal," he said.

"_La Patrie_! The great Mother.

Right or wrong, who shall dare to harm her?
Yes, if it was she who rose up in her majesty and called to us." He laughed.