Paris was not
receiving the soldiers wounded in battle; by order of the Government,
they were being sent from the front to the hospitals in the South.
She no longer evinced toward Julio the resistance of the first few days.
Her training as a nurse was giving her a certain passivity. She seemed
to be ignoring material attractions, stripping them of the spiritual
importance which she had hitherto attributed to them. She wanted to make
Julio happy, although her mind was concentrated on other matters.
One afternoon, she felt the necessity of communicating certain news
which had been filling her mind since the day before. Springing up from
the couch, she hunted for her handbag which contained a letter. She
wanted to read it again to tell its contents to somebody with that
irresistible impulse which forestalls confession.
It was a letter which her brother had sent her from the Vosges. In it
he spoke of Laurier more than of himself. They belonged to different
batteries, but were in the same division and had taken part in the
same combats. The officer was filled with admiration for his former
brother-in-law. Who could have guessed that a future hero was hidden
within that silent and tranquil engineer! . . . But he was a genuine
hero, just the same! All the officials had agreed with Marguerite's
brother on seeing how calmly he fulfilled his duty, facing death with
the same coolness as though he were in his factory near Paris.
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