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curly； which reminded Don Marcelo of his father…in…law。 The centaur； Madariaga； had certainly come to life in this warrior hardened by camping in the open air。 At first； the father grieved over his dirty and tired aspect； but a second glance made him sure that he was now far more handsome and interesting than in his days of society glory。
〃What do you need？ 。 。 。 What do you want？〃
His voice was trembling with tenderness。 He was speaking to the tanned and robust combatant in the same tone that he was wont to use twenty years ago when； holding the child by the hand； he had halted before the preserve cupboards of Buenos Aires。
〃Would you like money？ 。 。 。〃
He had brought a large sum with him to give to his son； but the soldier gave a shrug of indifference as though he had offered him a plaything。 He had never been so rich as at this moment； he had a lot of money in Paris and he didn't know what to do with ithe didn't need anything。
〃Send me some cigars 。 。 。 for me and my comrades。〃
He was constantly receiving from his mother great baskets full of choice goodies； tobacco and clothing。 But he never kept anything； all was passed on to his fellow…warriors； sons of poor families or alone in the world。 His munificence had spread from his intimates to the company； and from that to the entire battalion。 Don Marcelo divined his great popularity in the glances and smiles of the soldiers passing near them。 He was the generous son of a millionaire； and this popularity seemed to include even him when the news went around that the father of Sergeant Desnoyers had arrived a potentate who possessed fabulous wealth on the other side of the sea。
〃I guessed that you would want cigars；〃 chuckled the old man。
And his gaze sought the bags brought from the automobile through the windings of the underground road。
All of the son's valorous deeds； extolled and magnified by Argensola； now came trooping into his mind。 He had the original hero before his very eyes。
〃Are you content； satisfied？ 。 。 。 You do not repent of your decision？〃
〃Yes； I am content； father 。 。 。 very content。〃
Julio spoke without boasting； modestly。 His life was very hard； but just like that of millions of other men。 In his section of a few dozens of soldiers there were many superior to him in intelligence； in studiousness； in character； but they were all courageously undergoing the test； experiencing the satisfaction of duty fulfilled。 The common danger was helping to develop the noblest virtues of these men。 Never； in times of peace； had he known such comradeship。 What magnificent sacrifices he had witnessed！
〃When all this is over； men will be better 。 。 。 more generous。 Those who survive will do great things。〃
Yes； of course； he was content。 For the first time in his life he was tasting the delights of knowing that he was a useful being； that he was good for something； that his passing through the world would not be fruitless。 He recalled with pity that Desnoyers who had not known how to occupy his empty life； and had filled it with every kind of frivolity。 Now he had obligations that were taxing all his powers； he was collaborating in the formation of a future。 He was a man at last！
〃I am content；〃 he repeated with conviction。
His father believed him； yet he fancied that； in a corner of that frank glance； he detected something sorrowful； a memory of a past which perhaps often forced its way among his present emotions。 There flitted through his mind the lovely figure of Madame Laurier。 Her charm was； doubtless； still haunting his son。 And to think that he could not bring her here！ 。 。 。 The austere father of the preceding year contemplated himself with astonishment as he caught himself formulating this immoral regret。
They passed a quarter of an hour without loosening hands； looking into each other's eyes。 Julio asked after his mother and Chichi。 He frequently received letters from them； but that was not enough for his curiosity。 He laughed heartily at hearing of Argensola's amplified and abundant life。 These interesting bits of news came from a world not much more than sixty miles distant in a direct line 。 。 。 but so far； so very far away！
Suddenly the father noticed that his boy was listening with less attention。 His senses； sharpened by a life of alarms and ambushed attacks； appeared to be withdrawing itself from the company； attracted by the firing。 Those were no longer scattered shots； they had combined into a continual crackling。
The senator； who had left father and son together that they might talk more freely； now reappeared。
〃We are dismissed from here； my friend；〃 he announced。 〃We have no luck in our visits。〃
Soldiers were no longer passing to and fro。 All had hastened to their posts； like the crew of a ship which clears for action。 While Julio was taking up the rifle which he had left against the wall； a bit of dust whirled above his father's head and a little hole appeared in the ground。
〃Quick； get out of here！〃 he said pushing Don Marcelo。
Then； in the shelter of a covered trench； came the nervous； very brief farewell。 〃Good…bye； father；〃 a kiss； and he was gone。 He had to return as quickly as possible to the side of his men。
The firing had become general all along the line。 The soldiers were shooting serenely； as though fulfilling an ordinary function。 It was a combat that took place every day without anybody's knowing exactly who started itin consequence of the two armies being installed face to face； and such a short distance apart。 。 。 。 The Chief of the battalion was also obliged to desert his guests； fearing a counter…attack。
Again the officer charged with their safe conduct put himself at the head of the file； and they began to retrace their steps through the slippery maze。 Desnoyers was tramping sullenly on； angry at the intervention of the enemy which had cut short his happiness。
Before his inward gaze fluttered the vision of Julio with his black； curly beard which to him was the greatest novelty of the trip。 He heard again his grave voice； that of a man who has taken up life from a new viewpoint。
〃I am content； father 。 。 。 I am content。〃
The firing； growing constantly more distant； gave the father great uneasiness。 Then he felt an instinctive faith； absurd； very firm。 He saw his son beautiful and immortal as a god。 He had a conviction that he would come out safe and sound from all dangers。 That others should die was but natural； but Julio！ 。 。 。
As they got further and further away from the soldier boy； Hope appeared to be singing in his ears； and as an echo of his pleasing musings； the father kept repeating mentally：
〃No one will kill him。 My heart which never deceives me； tells me so。 。 。 。 No one will kill him！〃
CHAPTER IV
〃NO ONE WILL KILL HIM〃
Four months later； Don Marcelo's confidence received a rude shock。 Julio was wounded。 But at the same time that Lacour bought him this news； lamentably delayed； he tranquilized him with the result of his investigations in the war ministry。 Sergeant Desnoyers was now a sub…lieutenant； his wound was almost healed and； thanks to the wire… pulling of the senator； he was