‘Men go to war because they want to,’ Emeritus Labiche pronounced later, at table. ‘Be it to free the blacks, not to free the blacks; to save the Republic; to quash the Republic and save the Union – it is a calling for men.’
Patrick enjoyed these evenings. Emeritus Labiche had a view on everything. And was steadfast in its constancy. The master of Manoir Labiche, would not easily be for turning, it seemed to Patrick. Now he listened as the Southerner continued to hold forth on war.
‘Some will go for cotton, commerce, or cash; others for some disused notion of honour or glory; others because they are American, more again because they are not. War binds men together, brings them in from the cold, so to speak – even if it be as corpses!’
‘War is a cod!’ Oxy Moran interrupted. ‘At the end of the day every difference has to be patched up. War is all a cod.’
‘A cod it may be, Mr Moran … but there is no way of avoiding it,’ Emeritus Labiche responded somewhat testily. ‘Men must unfurl their banners to protect their homes and their way of life.’
‘And their ladies!’ Madame Labiche deftly reminded him.
‘God knows how Madame Labiche came by such comely daughters,’ Oxy later observed to Patrick. ‘Her face would be her fortune if only it were rented out for funerals.’
‘A face to die for!’
Oxy laughed out loud.