convince themselves that he was completely out of danger.

"Oh, it's nothing at all," protested the sub-lieutenant. "A bullet wound
in the shoulder. The doctor feared at first that I might lose my left
arm, but it has healed well and it isn't worth while to think any more
about it."

Chichi's appraising glance swept Julio from head to foot; taking in all
the details of his military elegance. His cloak was worn thin and dirty;
the leggings were spatter-dashed with mud; he smelled of leather, sweaty
cloth and strong tobacco; but on one wrist he was wearing a watch, and
on the other, his identity medal fastened with a gold chain. She had
always admired her brother for his natural good taste, so she stowed
away all these little details in her memory in order to pass them on to
Rene. Then she surprised her mother with a demand for a loan that she
might send a little gift to her artilleryman.

Don Marcelo gloated over the fifteen days of satisfaction ahead of him.
Sub-lieutenant Desnoyers found it impossible to go out alone, for his
father was always pacing up and down the reception hall before the
military cap which was shedding modest splendor and glory upon the hat
rack. Scarcely had Julio put it on his head before his sire appeared,
also with hat and cane, ready to sally forth.

"Will you permit me to accompany you? . . . I will not bother you."

This would be said so humbly, with such an evident desire to have his
request granted, that his son had not the heart to refuse him. In order
to take a walk with Argensola, he had to scurry down the back stairs, or
resort to other schoolboy tricks.

Never had the elder Desnoyers promenaded the streets of Paris with
such solid satisfaction as by the side of this muscular youth in
his gloriously worn cloak, on whose breast were glistening his two
decorations--the cross of war and the military medal. He was a hero,
and this hero was his son. He accepted as homage to them both the
sympathetic glances of the public in the street cars and subways. The
interest with which the women regarded the fine-looking youth tickled
him immensely. All the other military men that they met, no matter how
many bands and crosses they displayed, appeared to the doting father
mere embusques, unworthy of comparison with his Julio. . . . The
wounded men who got out of the coaches by the aid of staffs and crutches
inspired him with the greatest pity. Poor fellows! . . . They did not
bear the charmed