rguerite
had passed near him without recognizing him, since his father did not
betray her.

One of Don Marcelo's pet occupations was to make his son tell about the
encounter in which he had been hurt. No visitor ever came to see the
sub-lieutenant but the father always made the same petition.

"Tell us how you were wounded. . . . Explain how you killed that German
captain."

Julio tried to excuse himself with visible annoyance. He was already
surfeited with his own history. To please his father, he had related the
facts to the senator, to Argensola and to Tchernoff in his studio, and
to other family friends. . . . He simply could not do it again.

So the father began the narration on his own account, giving the relief
and details of the deed as though seen with his own eyes. . . .

He had to take possession of the ruins of a sugar refinery in front
of the trench. The Germans had been expelled by the French cannon.
A reconnoitring survey under the charge of a trusty man was then
necessary. And the heads, as usual, had selected Sergeant Desnoyers.

At daybreak, the platoon had advanced stealthily without encountering
any difficulty. The soldiers scattered among the ruins. Julio then went
on alone, examining the positions of the enemy; on turning around a
corner of the wall, he had the most unexpected of encounters. A German
captain was standing in front of him. They had almost bumped into each
other. They looked into each other's eyes with more suspense than hate,
yet at the same time, they were trying instinctively to kill each other,
each one trying to get the advantage by his swiftness. The captain
had dropped the map that he was carrying. His right hand sought his
revolver, trying to draw it from its case without once taking his eyes
off his enemy. Then he had to give this up as useless--it was too late.
With his eyes distended by the proximity of death, he kept his gaze
fixed upon the Frenchman who had raised his gun to his face. A shot,
from a barrel almost touching him . . . and the German fell dead.

Not till then did the victor notice the captain's orderly who was but a
few steps behind. He shot Desnoyers, wounding him in the shoulder. The
French hurried to the spot, killing the corporal. Then there was a sharp
cross-fire with the enemy's company which had halted a little ways off
while their commander was exploring the ground. Julio, in spite of
his wound, continued at the head of his section, defending t