and when his turn comes, he seeks consolation in passing
them on to the unhappy creatures whom war puts into his power. This
nation of war-lords, as they love to call themselves, aspires to
lordship, but outside of the country. Within it, are the ones who least
appreciate human dignity and, therefore, long vehemently to spread
their dominant will over the face of the earth, passing from lackeys to
lords."

Suddenly Don Marcelo stopped going with such frequency to the studio. He
was now haunting the home and office of the senator, because this friend
had upset his tranquillity. Lacour had been much depressed since the
heir to the family glory had broken through the protecting paternal net
in order to go to war.

One night, while dining with the Desnoyers family, an idea popped into
his head which filled him with delight. "Would you like to see your
son?" He needed to see Rene and had begun negotiating for a permit from
headquarters which would allow him to visit the front. His son belonged
to the same army division as Julio; perhaps their camps were rather far
apart, but an automobile makes many revolutions before it reaches the
end of its journey.

It was not necessary to say more. Desnoyers instantly felt the most
overmastering desire to see his boy, since, for so many months, he had
had to content himself with reading his letters and studying the snap
shot which one of his comrades had made of his soldier son.

From that time on, he besieged the senator as though he were a political
supporter desiring an office. He visited him in the mornings in his
home, invited him to dinner every evening, and hunted him down in the
salons of the Luxembourg. Before the first word of greeting could be
exchanged, his eyes were formulating the same interrogation. . . . "When
will you get that permit?"

The great man could only reply by lamenting the indifference of the
military department toward the civilian element; it always had been
inimical toward parliamentarism.

"Besides, Joffre is showing himself most unapproachable; he does not
encourage the curious. . . . To-morrow I will see the President."

A few days later, he arrived at the house in the avenue Victor Hugo,
with an expression of radiant satisfaction that filled Don Marcelo with
joy.

"It has come?"

"It has come. . . . We start the day after to-morrow."

Desnoyers went the following afternoon to the studio in the rue de la
Pompe.

"I am going to-morrow!"