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ng the most insignificant of their pieces。 He was obliged to respond gravely to the presentations which his nephew was making； and take the hand which the Count was extending with aristocratic languor。 The adversary began considering him with benevolence； on learning that he was a millionaire from a distant land where riches were acquired very rapidly。
Soon he was seated as a stranger at his own table； eating from the same dishes that his family were accustomed to use； served by men with shaved heads； wearing coarse； striped aprons over their uniforms。 That which he was eating was his； the wine was from his vaults； all that adorned the room he had bought： the trees whose boughs were waving outside the window also belonged to him。 。 。 。 And yet he felt as though he were in this place for the first time； with all the discomfort and diffidence of a total stranger。 He ate because he was hungry； but the food and wines seemed to have come from another planet。
He continued looking with consternation at those occupying the places of his wife； children and the Lacours。 。 。 。
They were speaking in German among themselves； but those having a limited knowledge of French frequently availed themselves of that language in order that their guest might understand them。 Those who could only mumble a few words； repeated them to an accompaniment of amiable smiles。 All were displaying an amicable desire to propitiate the owner of the castle。
〃You are going to lunch with the barbarians；〃 said the Count； offering him a seat at his side。 〃Aren't you afraid that we may eat you alive？〃
The Germans burst into roars of laughter at the wit of His Excellency。 They all took great pains to demonstrate by word and manner that barbarity was wrongly attributed to them by their enemies。
Don Marcelo looked from one to another。 The fatigues of war； especially the forced march of the last days； were very apparent in their persons。 Some were tall and slender with an angular slimness； others were stocky and corpulent with short neck and head sunk between the shoulders。 These had lost much of their fat in a month's campaign； the wrinkled and flabby skin hanging in folds in various parts of their bodies。 All had shaved heads； the same as the soldiers。 Around the table shone two rows of cranial spheres； reddish or dark。 Their ears stood out grotesquely； and their jaw bones were in strong relief owing to their thinness。 Some had preserved the upright moustache in the style of the Emperor； the most of them were shaved or had a stubby tuft like a brush。
A golden bracelet glistened on the wrist of the Count； stretched on the table。 He was the oldest of them all and the only one that kept his hair； of a frosty red； carefully combed and glistening with pomade。 Although about fifty years old； he still maintained a youthful vigor cultivated by exercise。 Wrinkled； bony and strong； he tried to dissimulate his uncouthness as a man of battle under a suave and indolent laziness。 The officers treated him with the greatest respect。 Hartrott told his uncle that the Count was a great artist； musician and poet。 The Emperor was his friend； they had known each other from boyhood。 Before the war； certain scandals concerning his private life had exiled him from Courtmere lampoons of the socialists and scandal…mongers。 The Kaiser had always kept a secret affection for his former chum。 Everybody remembered his dance； 〃The Caprices of Scheherazade；〃 represented with the greatest luxury in Berlin through the endorsement of his powerful friend； William II。 The Count had lived many years in the Orient。 In fact； he was a great gentleman and an artist of exquisite sensibility as well as a soldier。
Since Desnoyers was now his guest； the Count could not permit him to remain silent； so he made an opportunity of bringing him into the conversation。
〃Did you see any of the insurrections？ 。 。 。 Did the troops have to kill many people？ How about the assassination of Poincare？ 。 。 。
He asked these questions in quick succession and Don Marcelo； bewildered by their absurdity； did not know how to reply。 He believed that he must have fallen in with a feast of fools。 Then he suspected that they were making fun of him。 Uprisings？ Assassinations of the President？ 。 。 。
Some gazed at him with pity because of his ignorance； others with suspicion； believing that he was merely pretending not to know of these events which had happened so near him。
His nephew insisted。 〃The daily papers in Germany have been full of accounts of these matters。 Fifteen days ago； the people of Paris revolted against the Government； bombarding the Palais de l'Elysee； and assassinating the President。 The army had to resort to the machine guns before order could be restored。 。 。 。 Everybody knows that。〃
But Desnoyers insisted that he did not know it； that nobody had seen such things。 And as his words were received in an atmosphere of malicious doubt； he preferred to be silent。 His Excellency； superior spirit； incapable of being associated with the popular credulity； here intervened to set matters straight。 The report of the assassination was； perhaps； not certain； the German periodicals might have unconsciously exaggerated it。 Just a few hours ago； the General of the Staff had told him of the flight of the French Government to Bordeaux； and the statement about the revolution in Paris and the firing of the French troops was indisputable。 〃The gentleman has seen it all without doubt； but does not wish to admit it。〃 Desnoyers felt obliged to contradict this lordling； but his negative was not even listened to。
Paris！ This name made all eyes glisten and everybody talkative。 As soon as possible they wished to reach the Eiffel Tower； to enter victorious into the city； to receive their recompense for the privations and fatigues of a month's campaign。 They were devotees of military glory； they considered war necessary to existence； and yet they were bewailing the hardship that it was imposing upon them。 The Count exhaled the plaint of the craftsmaster。
〃Oh； the havoc that this war has brought in my plans！〃 he sighed。 〃This winter they were going to bring out my dance in Paris！〃
They all protested at his sadness； his work would surely be presented after the triumph； and the French would have to recognize it。
〃It will not be the same thing；〃 complained the Count。 〃I confess that I adore Paris。 。 。 。 What a pity that these people have never wished to be on familiar terms with us！〃 。 。 。 And he relapsed into the silence of the unappreciated man。
Desnoyers suddenly recognized in one of the officers who was talking； with eyes bulging with covetousness； of the riches of Paris； the Chief Thief with the band on his arm。 He it was who so methodically had sacked the castle。 As though divining the old Frenchman's thought； the commissary began excusing himself。
〃It is war； monsieur。 。 。 。〃
The same as the others！ 。 。 。 War had to be paid with the treasures of the conquered。 That was the new German system； the healthy return to the wars of ancient days； tributes imposed on the cities； and each house sacked separately。 In this way； the enemy's resistance would be