"Maman," asked the little blond boy, "may I go out to the garden?"
"No, not yet, Alexandre—you must do your catechism first."
"Oh." He climbed up to sit on her knee, not unhappily. "What part do we do today?"
"Let's see how far you can go." She stroked his hair and began. "What are you?"
He sat up straight, his mouth working hard to form the syllables correctly. "A Re-pub-li-can."
She smiled. "Who do you belong to?"
"The patrie."
"Very good. Who should you adore?"
"The Supreme Being."
"Through which sect?"
"You are free to choose!" It was one of his favorite answers.
"And which is preferable?"
"That of nature and…and reason."
"Tell me what this sect is."
"It's that which unites us with the Supreme Being or—" he wrinkled his brow—"which separates us from it."
"How does it unite us?"
"Through virtue."
"How are we separated from it?"
"Through crime."
"Why should this sect be preferred?"
"Because it is free of any su—sup—" He looked up at her.
"Superstition."
"Superstition." He repeated it proudly. "It is free of any super-stition."
"How does one recognize superstition?"
"By its exaggerated dogmas—what are those again, Maman?—which tend to arm citizens one against another."
"Exaggerated dogmas are beliefs that are held to with or without reasons to support them. Does this sect consist of vain ceremonies?"
"No. –Is the mass at church on Sunday a vain ceremony?"
"Perhaps, Alexandre, but you will have to decide that for yourself when you are older. If I simply told you one way or the other, you might have a dogma."
"And then a super-stition?"
"Maybe so. Now, if this sect does not consist of vain ceremonies, then in what?"
"In pure morals, which will make hu-manit…all people…a people of brothers. Does that mean it makes me your brother, even though you are my maman?"
She smiled. "Yes, Citizen Alexandre, it does. Now, you've done very well, and may go play outside."
He shook his head and snuggled against her. "I want to do more, Citizen Maman. I like to do it."