this seaside resort near the
Spanish frontier.

Chichi also wished to return because Rene was now filling the greater
part of her thoughts. Absence had shown her that she was really in love
with him. Such a long time without seeing her little sugar soldier!
. . . So the family abandoned their hotel life and returned to the
avenue Victor Hugo.

Since the shock of the first September days, Paris had been gradually
changing its aspect. The nearly two million inhabitants who had been
living quietly in their homes without letting themselves be drawn into
the panic, had accepted the victory with grave serenity. None of them
could explain the exact course of the battle; they would learn all about
it when it was entirely finished.

One September Sunday, at the hour when the Parisians are accustomed
to take advantage of the lovely twilight, they had learned from the
newspapers of the great triumph of the Allies and of the great danger
which they had so narrowly escaped. The people were delighted, but
did not, however, abandon their calm demeanor. Six weeks of war had
radically changed the temperament of turbulent and impressionable Paris.

The victory was slowly restoring the Capital to its former aspect. A
street that was practically deserted a few weeks before was now filled
with transients. The shops were reopening. The neighbors accustomed to
the conventional silence of their deserted apartment houses, again heard
sounds of returning life in the homes above and below them.

Don Marcelo's satisfaction in welcoming his family home was considerably
clouded by the presence of Dona Elena. She was Germany returning to the
encounter, the enemy again established within his tents. Would he never
be able to free himself from this bondage? . . . She was silent in her
brother-in-law's presence because recent events had rather bewildered
her. Her countenance was stamped with a wondering expression as though
she were gazing at the upsetting of the most elemental physical laws.
In reflective silence she was puzzling over the Marne enigma, unable to
understand how it was that the Germans had not conquered the ground
on which she was treading; and in order to explain this failure, she
resorted to the most absurd suppositions.

One especially engrossing matter was increasing her sadness. Her sons.
. . . What would become of her sons! Don Marcelo had never told her of
his meeting with Captain von Hartrott. He was maintaining absolute
si