nothing but their absent son. Chichi scarcely looked at her
brother's friend. Her attention was entirely concentrated on the war.
The irregularity in the mails was exasperating her so that she began
composing protests to the government whenever a few days passed by
without bringing any letter from sub-Lieutenant Lacour.

Argensola excused himself on various pretexts from continuing to dine
in the avenue Victor Hugo. It pleased him far more to haunt the cheap
restaurants with his female flock. His host accepted his negatives with
good-natured resignation.

"Not to-day, either?"

And in order to compensate for his guest's non-appearance, he would
present himself at the studio earlier than ever on the day following.

It was an exquisite pleasure for the doting father to let the time slip
by seated on the divan which still seemed to guard the very hollow made
by Julio's body, gazing at the canvases covered with color by his brush,
toasting his toes by the beat of a stove which roared so cosily in the
profound, conventual silence. It certainly was an agreeable refuge, full
of memories in the midst of monotonous Paris so saddened by the war
that he could not meet a friend who was not preoccupied with his own
troubles.

His former purchasing dissipations had now lost all charm for him. The
Hotel Drouot no longer tempted him. At that time, the goods of German
residents, seized by the government, were being auctioned off;--a
felicitous retaliation for the enforced journey which the fittings of
the castle of Villeblanche had taken on the road to Berlin; but the
agents told him in vain of the few competitors which he would now meet.
He no longer felt attracted by these extraordinary bargains. Why buy
anything more? . . . Of what use was such useless stuff? Whenever he
thought of the hard life of millions of men in the open field, he felt
a longing to lead an ascetic life. He was beginning to hate the
ostentatious splendors of his home on the avenue Victor Hugo. He now
recalled without a regretful pang, the destruction of the castle. No,
he was far better off there . . . and "there" was always the studio of
Julio.

Argensola began to form the habit of working in the presence of Don
Marcelo. He knew that the resolute soul abominated inactive people, so,
under the contagious influence of dominant will-power, he began several
new pieces. Desnoyers would follow with interest the motions of his
brush and accept all the explanati