Mr. Simpson rose protestingly.

"My dear Hugh," he said. "This is very painful. I beg that you will spare
me."

"My name is Chiltern," answered Hugh, shortly. "Will you kindly explain,
if you can, why the town of Grenoble has ignored us?"

Israel Simpson hesitated a moment. He seemed older when he looked at
Chiltern again, and in his face commiseration and indignation were oddly
intermingled. His hand sought his watch chain.

"Yes, I will tell you," he replied slowly, "although in all my life no
crueller duty has fallen on me. It is because we in Grenoble are
old-fashioned in our views of morality, and I thank God we are so. It is
because you have married a divorced woman under circumstances that have
shocked us. The Church to which I belong, and whose teachings I respect,
does not recognize such a marriage. And you have, in my opinion,
committed an offence against society. To recognize you by social
intercourse would be to condone that offence, to open the door to
practices that would lead, in a short time, to the decay of our people."

Israel Simpson turned, and pointed a shaking forefinger at the portrait
of General Augus Chiltern.

"And I affirm here, fearlessly before you, that he, your father, would
have been the last to recognize such a marriage."

Chiltern took a step forward, and his fingers tightened.