essness of the
sacrifice came immediately into his mind. Of what use would it be?
. . . He looked robust and was well-preserved for his age, but he was
over seventy, and only the young make good soldiers. Combat is but
one incident in the struggle. Equally 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 m