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posed on the cities； and each house sacked separately。 In this way； the enemy's resistance would be more effectually overcome and the war soon brought to a close。 He ought not to be downcast over the appropriations； for his furnishings and ornaments would all be sold in Germany。 After the French defeat； he could place a remonstrance claim with his government； petitioning it to indemnify his loss； his relatives in Berlin would support his demand。
Desnoyers listened in consternation to his counsels。 What kind of mentality had these men； anyway？ Were they insane； or were they trying to have some fun at his expense？ 。 。 。
When the lunch was at last ended； the officers arose and adjusted their swords for service。 Captain von Hartrott rose； too； it was necessary for him to return to his general； he had already dedicated too much time to family expansion。 His uncle accompanied him to the automobile where Moltkecito once more justified the ruin and plunder of the castle。
〃It is war。 。 。 。 We have to be very ruthless that it may not last long。 True kindness consists in being cruel； because then the terror…stricken enemy gives in sooner； and so the world suffers less。〃
Don Marcelo shrugged his shoulders before this sophistry。 In the doorway； the captain gave some orders to a soldier who soon returned with a bit of chalk which had been used to number the lodging places。 Von Hartrott wished to protect his uncle and began tracing on the wall near the door：〃Bitte； nicht plundern。 Es sind freundliche Leute。〃
In response to the old man's repeated questions； he then translated the inscription。 〃It means； 'Please do not sack this house。 Its occupants are kind people 。 。 。 friendly people。'〃
Ah； no！ 。 。 。 Desnoyers repelled this protection vehemently。 He did not wish to be kind。 He was silent because he could not be anything else。 。 。 。 But a friend of the invaders of his country！ 。 。 。 No； NO； NO！
His nephew rubbed out part of the lettering； leaving the first words； 〃Bitte； nicht plundern。〃 Then he repeated the scrawled request at the entrance of the park。 He thought this notice advisable because His Excellency might go away and other officials might be installed in the castle。 Von Hartrott had seen much and his smile seemed to imply that nothing could surprise him； no matter how outrageous it might be。 But his relative continued scorning his protection； and laughing bitterly at the impromptu signboard。 What more could they carry off？ 。 。 。 Had they not already stolen the best？
〃Good…bye； uncle！ Soon we shall meet in Paris。〃
And the captain climbed into his automobile； extending a soft； cold hand that seemed to repel the old man with its flabbiness。
Upon returning to his castle； he saw a table and some chairs in the shadow of a group of trees。 His Excellency was taking his coffee in the open air； and obliged him to take a seat beside him。 Only three officers were keeping him company。 。 。 。 There was here a grand consumption of liquors from his wine cellars。 They were talking together in German； and for an hour Don Marcelo remained there； anxious to go but never finding the opportune moment to leave his seat and disappear。
He employed his time in imagining the great stir among the troops hidden by the trees。 Another division of the army was passing by with the incessant； deafening roar of the sea。 An inexplicable phenomenon kept the luminous calm of the afternoon in a continuous state of vibration。 A constant thundering sounded afar off as though an invisible storm were always approaching from beyond the blue horizon line。
The Count； noticing his evident interest in the noise； interrupted his German chat to explain。
〃It is the cannon。 A battle is going on。 Soon we shall join in the dance。〃
The possibility of having to give up his quarters here； the most comfortable that he had found in all the campaign； put His Excellency in a bad humor。
〃War；〃 he sighed； 〃a glorious life； but dirty and deadening！ In an entire monthto…day is the first that I have lived as a gentleman。〃
And as though attracted by the luxuries that he might shortly have to abandon； he rose and went toward the castle。 Two of the Germans betook themselves toward the village； and Desnoyers remained with the other officer who was delightfully sampling his liquors。 He was the chief of the battalion encamped in the village。
〃This is a sad war； Monsieur！〃 he said in French。
Of all the inimical group； this man was the only one for whom Don Marcelo felt a vague attraction。 〃Although a German； he appears a good sort；〃 meditated the old man； eyeing him carefully。 In times of peace； he must have been stout； but now he showed the loose and flaccid exterior of one who has just lost much in weight。 Desnoyers surmised that the man had formerly lived in tranquil and vulgar sensuousness； in a middle…class happiness suddenly cut short by war。
〃What a life； Monsieur！〃 the officer rambled on。 〃May God punish well those who have provoked this catastrophe！〃
The Frenchman was almost affected。 This man represented the Germany that he had many times imagined； a sweet and tranquil Germany composed of burghers； a little heavy and slow perhaps； but atoning for their natural uncouthness by an innocent and poetic sentimentalism。 This Blumhardt whom his companions called Bataillon…Kommandeur； was undoubtedly the good father of a large family。 He fancied him walking with his wife and children under the lindens of a provincial square； all listening with religious unction to the melodies played by a military band。 Then he saw him in the beer gardens with his friends； discussing metaphysical problems between business conversations。 He was a man from old Germany； a character from a romance by Goethe。 Perhaps the glory of the Empire had modified his existence； and instead of going to the beer gardens； he was now accustomed to frequent the officers' casino； while his family maintained a separate existenceseparated from the civilians by the superciliousness of military caste； but at heart； he was always the good German； ready to weep copiously before an affecting family scene or a fragment of good music。
Commandant Blumhardt； meanwhile； was thinking of his family living in Cassel。
〃There are eight children； Monsieur；〃 he said with a visible effort to control emotion。 〃The two eldest are preparing to become officers。 The youngest is starting school this year。 。 。 。 He is just so high。〃
And with his right hand he measured off the child's diminutive stature。 He trembled with laughter and grief at recalling the little chap。 Then he broke forth into eulogies about his wife excellent manager of the home； a mother who was always modestly sacrificing herself for her children and husband。 Ay； the sweet Augusta！ 。 。 。 After twenty years of married life； he adored her as on the day he first saw her。 In a pocket of his uniform； he was keeping all the letters that she had written him since the beginning of the campaign。
〃Look at her； Monsieur。 。 。 。 There are my children。〃
From his breast pocket； he had drawn forth a silver medallion； adorned with the art of Munich； and touching a spring； he displayed the p