A woman who had had such an influence over the life
of Julio! . . . Could she thus easily forget her love? . . .
The two had passed on as though they did not recognize him. Perhaps
Captain Laurier did not see very clearly, but she had looked at him
frankly and then hastily averted her eyes so as to evade his greeting.
. . . The old man felt sad over such indifference, not on his own
account, but on his son's. Poor Julio! . . . The unbending parent, in
complete mental immorality, found himself lamenting this indifference as
something monstrous.
The war was the other topic of conversation during the afternoons passed
in the studio. Argensola was not now stuffing his pockets with printed
sheets as at the beginning of hostilities. A serene and resigned calm
had succeeded the excitement of those first moments when the people were
daily looking for miraculous interventions. All the periodicals were
saying about the same thing. He was content with the official report,
and he had learned to wait for that document without impatience,
foreseeing that with but few exceptions, it would say the same thing as
the day before.
The fever of the first months, with its illusions and optimisms, now
appeared to Argensola somewhat chimerical. Those not actually engaged in
the war were returning gradually to their habitual occupations.
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