She was still smiling distantly at him, but that smile was
more of a souvenir than a reality.
Between Lisbon and the coast of England, Julio spoke with her husband
for the last time. Every morning was appearing on the bulletin board the
alarming news transmitted by radiograph. The Empire was arming itself
against its enemies. God would punish them, making all manner of
troubles fall upon them. Desnoyers was motionless with astonishment
before the last piece of news--"Three hundred thousand revolutionists
are now besieging Paris. The suburbs are beginning to burn. The horrors
of the Commune have broken out again."
"My, but these Germans have gone mad!" exclaimed the disgusted youth to
the curious group surrounding the radio-sheet. "We are going to lose
the little sense that we have left! . . . What revolutionists are they
talking about? How could a revolution break out in Paris if the men of
the government are not reactionary?"
A gruff voice sounded behind him, rude, authoritative, as if trying to
banish the doubts of the audience. It was the Herr Comerzienrath who was
speaking.
"Young man, these notices are sent us by the first agencies of Germany
. . . and Germany never lies."
After this affirmation, he turned his back upon them and they saw him no
more.
On the following morning, the last day of the voyage.
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