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the flesh of an employee； trying to play the part of a sorely wounded patient。 She； so dainty； so incapable in her own home of the slightest physical effort； was learning the most skilful ways of lifting a human body from the ground and carrying it on her back。 Who knew but that she might render this very service some day on the battlefield！ She was ready for the greatest risks； with the ignorant audacity of women impelled by flashes of heroism。 All her admiration was for the English army nurses； slender women of nervous vigor whose photographs were appearing in the papers； wearing pantaloons； riding boots and white helmets。
Julio listened to her with astonishment。 Was this woman really Marguerite？ 。 。 。 War was obliterating all her winning vanities。 She was no longer fluttering about in bird…like fashion。 Her feet were treading the earth with resolute firmness； calm and secure in the new strength which was developing within。 When one of his caresses would remind her that she was a woman； she would always say the same thing；
〃What luck that you are a foreigner！ 。 。 。 What happiness to know that you do not have to go to war！〃
In her anxiety for sacrifice； she wanted to go to the battlefields； and yet at the same time； she was rejoicing to see her lover exempt from military duty。 This preposterous lack of logic was not gratefully received by Julio but irritated him as an unconscious offense。
〃One might suppose that she was protecting me！〃 he thought。 〃She is the man and rejoices that I； the weak comrade； should be protected from danger。 。 。 。 What a grotesque situation！〃 。 。 。
Fortunately； at times when Marguerite presented herself at the studio； she was again her old self； making him temporarily forget his annoyance。 She would arrive with the same joy in a vacation that the college student or the employee feels on a holiday。 Responsibility was teaching her to know the value of time。
〃No classes to…day！〃 she would call out on entering； and tossing her hat on a divan； she would begin a dance…step； retreating with infantile coquetry from the arms of her lover。
But in a few minutes she would recover her customary gravity； the serious look that had become habitual with her since the outbreak of hostilities。 She spoke often of her mother； always sad； but striving to hide her grief and keeping herself up in the hope of a letter from her son； she spoke； too； of the war； commenting on the latest events with the rhetorical optimism of the official dispatches。 She could describe the first flag taken from the enemy as minutely as though it were a garment of unparalleled elegance。 From a window； she had seen the Minister of War。 She was very much affected when repeating the story of some fugitive Belgians recently arrived at the hospital。 They were the only patients that she had been able to assist until now。 Paris was not receiving the soldiers wounded in battle； by order of the Government； they were being sent from the front to the hospitals in the South。
She no longer evinced toward Julio the resistance of the first few days。 Her training as a nurse was giving her a certain passivity。 She seemed to be ignoring material attractions； stripping them of the spiritual importance which she had hitherto attributed to them。 She wanted to make Julio happy； although her mind was concentrated on other matters。
One afternoon； she felt the necessity of communicating certain news which had been filling her mind since the day before。 Springing up from the couch； she hunted for her handbag which contained a letter。 She wanted to read it again to tell its contents to somebody with that irresistible impulse which forestalls confession。
It was a letter which her brother had sent her from the Vosges。 In it he spoke of Laurier more than of himself。 They belonged to different batteries； but were in the same division and had taken part in the same combats。 The officer was filled with admiration for his former brother…in…law。 Who could have guessed that a future hero was hidden within that silent and tranquil engineer！ 。 。 。 But he was a genuine hero； just the same！ All the officials had agreed with Marguerite's brother on seeing how calmly he fulfilled his duty； facing death with the same coolness as though he were in his factory near Paris。
He had asked for the dangerous post of lookout； slipping as near as possible to the enemy's lines in order to verify the exactitude of the artillery discharge； rectifying it by telephone。 A German shell had demolished the house on the roof of which he was concealed； and Laurier； on crawling out unhurt from the ruins； had readjusted his telephone and gone tranquilly on； continuing the same work in the shelter of a nearby grove。 His battery； picked out by the enemy's aeroplanes； had received the concentrated fire of the artillery opposite。 In a few minutes all the force were rolling on the groundthe captain and many soldiers dead； officers wounded and almost all the gunners。 There only remained as chief； Laurier； the Impassive （as his comrades nicknamed him）； and aided by the few artillerymen still on their feet； he continued firing under a rain of iron and fire； so as to cover the retreat of a battalion。
〃He has been mentioned twice in dispatches；〃 Marguerite continued reading。 〃I do not believe that it will be long before they give him the cross。 He is valiant in every way。 Who would have supposed all this a few weeks ago？〃 。 。 。
She did not share the general astonishment。 Living with Laurier had many times shown her the intrepidity of his character； the fearlessness concealed under that placid exterior。 On that account； her instincts had warned her against rousing her husband's wrath in the first days of her infidelity。 She still remembered the way he looked the night he surprised her leaving Julio's home。 His was the passion that kills； and； nevertheless； he had not attempted the least violence with her。 。 。 。 The memory of his consideration was awakening in Marguerite a sentiment of gratitude。 Perhaps he had loved her as no other man had。
Her eyes； with an irresistible desire for comparison； sought Julio's； admiring his youthful grace and distinction。 The image of Laurier； heavy and ordinary； came into her mind as a consolation。 Certainly the officer whom she had seen at the station when saying good…bye to her brother； did not seem to her like her old husband。 But Marguerite wished to forget the pallid lieutenant with the sad countenance who had passed before her eyes； preferring to remember him only as the manufacturer preoccupied with profits and incapable of comprehending what she was accustomed to call 〃the delicate refinements of a chic woman。〃 Decidedly Julio was the more fascinating。 She did not repent of her past。 She did not wish to repent of it。
And her loving selfishness made her repeat once more the same old exclamation〃How fortunate that you are a foreigner！ 。 。 。 What a relief to know that you are safe from the dangers of war！〃
Julio felt the usual exasperation at hearing this。 He came very near to closing his beloved's mouth with his hand。 Was she trying to make fun of him？ 。 。 。 It was fairly insulting to place him