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ly necessary are the hardship and self…denial in the form of interminable marches； extremes of temperature； nights in the open air； shoveling earth； digging trenches； loading carts； suffering hunger。 。 。 。 No； it was too late。 He could not even leave an illustrious name that might serve as an example。
Instinctively he glanced behind。 He was not alone in the world； he had a son who could assume his father's debt 。 。 。 but that hope only lasted a minute。 His son was not French； he belonged to another people； half of his blood was from another source。 Besides； how could the boy be expected to feel as he did？ Would he even understand if his father should explain it to him？ 。 。 。 It was useless to expect anything from this lady…killing； dancing clown； from this fellow of senseless bravado； who was constantly exposing his life in duels in order to satisfy a silly sense of honor。
Oh； the meekness of the bluff Senor Desnoyers after these reflections！ 。 。 。 His family felt alarmed at seeing the humility and gentleness with which he moved around the house。 The two men… servants had gone to join their regiments； and to them the most surprising result of the declaration of war was the sudden kindness of their master； the lavishness of his farewell gifts； the paternal care with which he supervised their preparations for departure。 The terrible Don Marcelo embraced them with moist eyes； and the two had to exert themselves to prevent his accompanying them to the station。
Outside of his home he was slipping about humbly as though mutely asking pardon of the many people around him。 To him they all appeared his superiors。 It was a period of economic crisis； for the time being； the rich also were experiencing what it was to be poor and worried； the banks had suspended operations and were paying only a small part of their deposits。 For some weeks the millionaire was deprived of his wealth； and felt restless before the uncertain future。 How long would it be before they could send him money from South America？ Was war going to take away fortunes as well as lives？ 。 。 。 And yet Desnoyers had never appreciated money less； nor disposed of it with greater generosity。
Numberless mobilized men of the lower classes who were going alone toward the station met a gentleman who would timidly stop them； put his hand in his pocket and leave in their right hand a bill of twenty francs； fleeing immediately before their astonished eyes。 The working…women who were returning weeping from saying good…bye to their husbands saw this same gentleman smiling at the children who were with them； patting their cheeks and hastening away； leaving a five…franc piece in their hands。
Don Marcelo； who had never smoked； was now frequenting the tobacco shops； coming out with hands and pockets filled in order that he might； with lavish generosity； press the packages upon the first soldier he met。 At times the recipient； smiling courteously； would thank him with a few words； revealing his superior breeding afterwards passing the gift on to others clad in cloaks as coarse and badly cut as his own。 The mobilization； universally obligatory； often caused him to make these mistakes。
The rough hands pressing his with a grateful clasp； left him satisfied for a few moments。 Ah； if he could only do more！ 。 。 。 The Government in mobilizing its vehicles had appropriated three of his monumental automobiles； and Desnoyers felt very sorry that they were not also taking the fourth mastodon。 Of what use were they to him？ The shepherds of this monstrous herd； the chauffeur and his assistants； were now in the army。 Everybody was marching away。 Finally he and his son would be the only ones lefttwo useless creatures。
He roared with wrath on learning of the enemy's entrance into Belgium； considering this the most unheard…of treason in history。 He suffered agonies of shame at remembering that at first he had held the exalted patriots of his country responsible for the war。 。 。 。 What perfidy； methodically carried out after long years of preparation！ The accounts of the sackings； fires and butcheries made him turn pale and gnash his teeth。 To him； to Marcelo Desnoyers； might happen the very same thing that Belgium was enduring； if the barbarians should invade France。 He had a home in the city； a castle in the country； and a family。 Through association of ideas； the women assaulted by the soldiery； made him think of Chichi and the dear Dona Luisa。 The mansions in flames called to his mind the rare and costly furnishings accumulated in his expensive dwellingsthe armorial bearings of his social elevation。 The old folk that were shot； the women foully mutilated； the children with their hands cut off； all the horrors of a war of terror； aroused the violence of his character。
And such things could happen with impunity in this day and generation！ 。 。 。
In order to convince himself that punishment was near； that vengeance was overtaking the guilty ones； he felt the necessity of mingling daily with the people crowding around the Gare de l'Est。
Although the greater part of the troops were operating on the frontiers； that was not diminishing the activity in Paris。 Entire battalions were no longer going off； but day and night soldiers were coming to the station singly or in groups。 These were Reserves without uniform on their way to enroll themselves with their companies； officials who until then had been busy with the work of the mobilization； platoons in arms destined to fill the great gaps opened by death。
The multitude； pressed against the railing； was greeting those who were going off； following them with their eyes while they were crossing the large square。 The latest editions of the daily papers were announced with hoarse yells； and instantly the dark throng would be spotted with white； all reading with avidity the printed sheets。 Good news： 〃Vive la France！〃 A doubtful despatch； foreshadowing calamity： 〃No matter！ We must press on at all costs！ The Russians will close in behind them！〃 And while these dialogues； inspired by the latest news were taking place； many young girls were going among the groups offering little flags and tricolored cockadesand passing through the patio； men and still more men were disappearing behind the glass doors； on their way to the war。
A sub…lieutenant of the Reserves； with his bag on his shoulder； was accompanied by his father toward the file of policemen keeping the crowds back。 Desnoyers saw in the young officer a certain resemblance to his son。 The father was wearing in his lapel the black and green ribbon of 1870a decoration which always filled Desnoyers with remorse。 He was tall and gaunt； but was still trying to hold himself erect； with a heavy frown。 He wanted to show himself fierce； inhuman； in order to hide his emotion。
〃Good…bye； my boy！ Do your best。〃
〃Good…bye； father。〃
They did not clasp hands； and each was avoiding looking at the other。 The official was smiling like an automaton。 The father turned his back brusquely； and threading his way through the throng； entered a cafe； where for some time he needed the most retired seat in the darkest earner to hide his emotion。
AND DON MARCELO