to lose wars.
ANN : As in Algeria.
CATHY : Well, yes. (Pause) Much tragedy . . .
ANN : As Guillaumeâs, for example.
CATHY : âSpeaking of Algeria.â
ANN : Thatâs right.
CATHY : But the meaninglessnessâlet me be more preciseâit was facing the meaninglessness which led me to faith.
ANN : It led you to faith.
CATHY : Because, do you see, theyâre the same two choices.
ANN : The same two as?
CATHY : The bureaucrat and her make-work files. To rebel. Or to submit. And each is unacceptable.
ANN : Is there a third choice?
CATHY : Thank you. And that is the essence of the book.
ANN : That the third choice is Faith.
CATHY : What else could it be? And to believe . . . in the possibility of another choice, is to long for God. And to discover it is Faith.
ANN : Faith without certainty.
CATHY : If there were certainty, why would it be Faith?
(Pause.)
ANN : Guillaume had Faith.
CATHY : Faith. Did he?
ANN (Takes a book from her desk and reads) : âThe growth . . .â
CATHY : He had certainty.
ANN (Continues reading) : âThe growth of consciousness, causing that pain which may only be . . .â Although a better rendering would be âthe growth of conscience â donât you think?
CATHY : Itâs the same word, in French.
ANN : But âconscienceâ here would be, the better rendering.
CATHY : You may be right. Yes. I think youâre right.
ANN : But that was not the translation on the poster.
CATHY : On the poster, no. Not on the poster.
ANN : Quote: âThe growth of consciousness, causing that pain, which may only be expunged through violence.â
CATHY : Thatâs what the poster said.
ANN : â Consciousness .â
CATHY : Yes.
ANN : Why?
CATHY : Your point is that a translation as âconscience,â that ââconscienceâ must lead to violence,â would have been recognized as absurd.
ANN : Thatâs right.
CATHY : As absurd and monstrous.
ANN : Monstrous, yes.
CATHY : In any case as shocking. Or, say, certainly more brutal . The original was shocking.
ANN : And yet.
CATHY : Go on.
ANN : Many were seduced by it.
CATHY : Many were.
ANN : And, I would assume. That it was more seductive in French, which, as you say, is the language of Philosophy.
CATHY : Yes.
ANN : And which additionally carried the romance of being Foreign.
CATHY : Well: to the young, the foreign idea is seductive.
ANN : Why is that?
CATHY : As to the young, everything is foreign. Which is why they are the revolutionaries.
ANN : Because?
CATHY : Itâs easy. One may easily âmake things anewâ according to oneâs insights if one possesses no experience. The French word was âseduireâ to seduce.
ANN : âTo seduce.â
CATHY : âSeduire.â And why would I forget it? Itâs the same word. Funny.
ANN : That was the verb.
CATHY : Thatâs right.
ANN : And you two spoke it.
CATHY : French.
ANN : Yes.
CATHY : Guillaume and I.
ANN : In Algeria.
CATHY : Thatâs right. I wrote of it, in . . .
ANN : No, Iâve marked it. (She reads) ââEcoute,â he would say, which was, to me, a magic incantation.â You say he affected not to understand English.
CATHY : Thatâs right.
ANN : But he did understand.
CATHY : He spoke it perfectly.
ANN : But?
CATHY : He thought it the language of Colonialism.
ANN : More than French.
CATHY : Thatâs right.
ANN : But he was fighting the Colonialism of the French.
CATHY : Well, retrospectively, of course, itâs all irrational. And yet they discount Religion. As based on Faith.
(Pause.)
ANN : You wrote in French . . .
CATHY : Then .
ANN : Yes.
CATHY : Did I . . .?
ANN : The Speech.
CATHY : . . . in Algeria . . .
ANN : And it was quoted.
CATHY : All right.
ANN : And published.
CATHY : Published .
ANN : You knew that.
CATHY : Iâm not sure I knew it.
ANN : That the speech was published?
CATHY : After