ignorance--they move and cry out, with their gaze, their arms and
their fists extended towards the sky whence fall daylight and storm.
They are struggling against victorious specters, like the Cyranos
and Don Quixotes that they still are. 

One sees their shadows stirring on the shining sad expanse of the
plain, and reflected in the pallid stagnant surface of the old
trenches, which now only the infinite void of space inhabits and
purifies, in the center of a polar desert whose horizons fume. 

But their eyes are opened.  They are beginning to make out the
boundless simplicity of things.  And Truth not only invests them with
a dawn of hope, but raises on it a renewal of strength and courage. 

"That's enough talk about those others!" one of the men commanded;
"all the worse for them!--Us! Us all!" The understanding between
democracies, the entente among the multitudes, the uplifting of the
people of the world, the bluntly simple faith! All the rest, aye,
all the rest, in the past, the present and the future, matters
nothing at all.