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ways believed that Marguerite had passed near him without recognizing him； since his father did not betray her。
One of Don Marcelo's pet occupations was to make his son tell about the encounter in which he had been hurt。 No visitor ever came to see the sub…lieutenant but the father always made the same petition。
〃Tell us how you were wounded。 。 。 。 Explain how you killed that German captain。〃
Julio tried to excuse himself with visible annoyance。 He was already surfeited with his own history。 To please his father； he had related the facts to the senator； to Argensola and to Tchernoff in his studio； and to other family friends。 。 。 。 He simply could not do it again。
So the father began the narration on his own account； giving the relief and details of the deed as though seen with his own eyes。 。 。 。
He had to take possession of the ruins of a sugar refinery in front of the trench。 The Germans had been expelled by the French cannon。 A reconnoitring survey under the charge of a trusty man was then necessary。 And the heads； as usual； had selected Sergeant Desnoyers。
At daybreak； the platoon had advanced stealthily without encountering any difficulty。 The soldiers scattered among the ruins。 Julio then went on alone； examining the positions of the enemy； on turning around a corner of the wall； he had the most unexpected of encounters。 A German captain was standing in front of him。 They had almost bumped into each other。 They looked into each other's eyes with more suspense than hate； yet at the same time； they were trying instinctively to kill each other； each one trying to get the advantage by his swiftness。 The captain had dropped the map that he was carrying。 His right hand sought his revolver； trying to draw it from its case without once taking his eyes off his enemy。 Then he had to give this up as uselessit was too late。 With his eyes distended by the proximity of death； he kept his gaze fixed upon the Frenchman who had raised his gun to his face。 A shot； from a barrel almost touching him 。 。 。 and the German fell dead。
Not till then did the victor notice the captain's orderly who was but a few steps behind。 He shot Desnoyers； wounding him in the shoulder。 The French hurried to the spot； killing the corporal。 Then there was a sharp cross…fire with the enemy's company which had halted a little ways off while their commander was exploring the ground。 Julio； in spite of his wound； continued at the head of his section； defending the factory against superior forces until supports arrived； and the land remained definitely in the power of the French。
〃Wasn't that about the way of it？〃 Don Marcelo would always wind up。
The son assented； desirous that his annoyance with the persistent story should come to an end as soon as possible。 Yes； that was the way of it。 But what the father didn't know； what Julio would never tell； was the discovery that he had made after killing the captain。
The two men； during the interminable second in which they had confronted each other； had showed in their eyes something more than the surprise of an encounter； and the wish to overcome the other。 Desnoyers knew that man。 The captain knew him； too。 He guessed it from his expression。 。 。 。 But self…preservation was more insistent than recollection and prevented them both from co…ordinating their thoughts。
Desnoyers had fired with the certainty that he was killing someone that he knew。 Afterwards； while directing the defense of the position and guarding against the approach of reinforcements； he had a suspicion that the enemy whose corpse was lying a few feet away might possibly be a member of the von Hartrott family。 No； he looked much older than his cousins； yet younger than his Uncle Karl who at his age； would be no mere captain of infantry。
When； weakened by the loss of blood； they were about to carry him to the trenches； the sergeant expressed a wish to see again the body of his victim。 His doubt continued before the face blanched by death。 The wide…open eyes still seemed to retain their startled expression。 The man had undoubtedly recognized him。 His face was familiar。 Who was he？ 。 。 。 Suddenly in his mind's eye； Julio saw the heaving ocean； a great steamer； a tall； blonde woman looking at him with half…closed eyes of invitation； a corpulent； moustached man making speeches in the style of the Kaiser。 〃Rest in peace； Captain Erckmann！〃 。 。 。 Thus culminated in a corner of France the discussions started at table in mid…ocean。
He excused himself mentally as though he were in the presence of the sweet Bertha。 He had had to kill； in order not to be killed。 Such is war。 He tried to console himself by thinking that Erckmann； perhaps； had failed to identify him； without realizing that his slayer was the shipmate of the summer。 。 。 。 And he kept carefully hidden in the depths of his memory this encounter arranged by Fate。 He did not even tell Argensola who knew of the incidents of the trans…atlantic passage。
When he least expected it； Don Marcelo found himself at the end of that delightful and proud existence which his son's presence had brought him。 The fortnight had flown by so swiftly！ The sub… lieutenant had returned to his post； and all the family； after this period of reality； had had to fall back on the fond illusions of hope； watching again for the arrival of his letters； making conjectures about the silence of the absent one； sending him packet after packet of everything that the market was offering for the soldieryfor the most part； useless and absurd things。
The mother became very despondent。 Julio's visit home but made her feel his absence with greater intensity。 Seeing him； hearing those tales of death that her husband was so fond of repeating； made her realize all the more clearly the dangers constantly surrounding her son。 Fatality appeared to be warning her with funereal presentiments。
〃They are going to kill him；〃 she kept saying to Desnoyers。 〃That wound was a forewarning from heaven。〃
When passing through the streets； she trembled with emotion at sight of the invalid soldiers。 The convalescents of energetic appearance； filled her with the greatest pity。 They made her think of a certain trip with her husband to San Sebastian where a bull fight had made her cry out with indignation and compassion； pitying the fate of the poor； gored horses。 With entrails hanging； they were taken to the corrals； and submitted to a hurried adjustment in order that they might return to the arena stimulated by a false energy。 Again and again they were reduced to this makeshift cobbling until finally a fatal goring finished them。 。 。 。 These recently cured men continually brought to her mind those poor beasts。 Some had been wounded three times since the beginning of the war； and were returning surgically patched together and re…galvanized to take another chance in the lottery of Fate； always in the expectation of the supreme blow。 。 。 。 Ay； her son！
Desnoyers waxed very indignant over his wife's low spirits； retorting：
〃But I tell you that Nobody will kill Julio！ 。 。 。 He is my son。 In my youth I； too； passed through great dangers。 They wounded me； too； in the wars i