His chum would simply go
wandering through the streets in search of news.
Marguerite was silent, as though yielding on seeing her pretexts
exhausted. Desnoyers was silent, too, construing her stillness as
assent. They had left the garden and she was looking around uneasily,
terrified to find herself in the open street beside her lover, and
seeking a hiding-place. Suddenly she saw before her the little red door
of an automobile, opened by the hand of her adorer.
"Get in," ordered Julio.
And she climbed in hastily, anxious to hide herself as soon as possible.
The vehicle started at great speed. Marguerite immediately pulled down
the shade of the window on her side, but, before she had finished and
could turn her head, she felt a hungry mouth kissing the nape of her
neck.
"No, not here," she said in a pleading tone. "Let us be sensible!"
And while he, rebellious at these exhortations, persisted in his
advances, the voice of Marguerite again sounded above the noise of the
rattling machinery of the automobile as it bounded over the pavement.
"Do you really believe that there will be no war? Do you believe that we
will be able to marry? . . . Tell me again. I want you to encourage me
. . . I need to hear it from your lips."
CHAPTER II
MADARIAGA, THE CENTAUR
In 1870 Marcelo Desnoyers was nineteen years old.
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