Zaza, too, was expressing her family’s opinion. Her father had belonged to the democratic Catholic group Le Sillon before it had been denounced by the Church; he still thought that Catholics have social obligations and rejected the theories of Maurras; his was a fairly coherent position, one that a fourteen-year-old girl could rally round with a clear conscience; Zaza’s indignation and her horror of violence was sincere. I, who had repeated my father’s opinion parrot-fashion, hadn’t a leg to stand on.
