Don Marcelo divined his great
popularity in the glances and smiles of the soldiers passing near them.
He was the generous son of a millionaire, and this popularity seemed to
include even him when the news went around that the father of Sergeant
Desnoyers had arrived--a potentate who possessed fabulous wealth on the
other side of the sea.
"I guessed that you would want cigars," chuckled the old man.
And his gaze sought the bags brought from the automobile through the
windings of the underground road.
All of the son's valorous deeds, extolled and magnified by Argensola,
now came trooping into his mind. He had the original hero before his
very eyes.
"Are you content, satisfied? . . . You do not repent of your decision?"
"Yes, I am content, father . . . very content."
Julio spoke without boasting, modestly. His life was very hard, but just
like that of millions of other men. In his section of a few dozens
of soldiers there were many superior to him in intelligence, in
studiousness, in character; but they were all courageously undergoing
the test, experiencing the satisfaction of duty fulfilled. The common
danger was helping to develop the noblest virtues of these men. Never,
in times of peace, had he known such comradeship. What magnificent
sacrifices he had witnessed!
"When all this is over, men will be better .
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