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Updated: June 25, 2025
Argensola hastened from the door at the end of the room, agitated, confused, and greeting her with expressions of welcome at the same time that he was putting sundry objects out of sight. A woman's sweater lying on the divan, he covered with a piece of Oriental drapery a hat trimmed with flowers, he sent flying into a far-away corner.
"Humanity accustoms itself easily to trouble," said Argensola, "provided that the trouble lasts long enough. . . . In this lies our strength." Don Marcelo was not in sympathy with the general resignation. The war was going to be much shorter than they were all imagining.
It was so; they were no longer fashionable. None knew that better than he, for he who was once the sensation of the day, was now passing as a stranger among the very people who a few months before had raved over him. "Your reign is over," laughed Argensola. "The fact that you are a handsome fellow doesn't help you one bit nowadays.
In order to take a walk with Argensola, he had to scurry down the back stairs, or resort to other schoolboy tricks. Never had the elder Desnoyers promenaded the streets of Paris with such solid satisfaction as by the side of this muscular youth in his gloriously worn cloak, on whose breast were glistening his two decorations the cross of war and the military medal.
In exchange for his lessons, Argensola received, much the same treatment as did the Greek slaves who taught rhetoric to the young patricians of decadent Rome. In the midst of a dissertation, his lord and friend would interrupt him with "Get my dress suit ready. I am invited out this evening."
The tribune dead, at the very moment that his word as welder of the people was most needed! . . . Argensola thought immediately of Tchernoff. "What will our neighbors say?" . . . The quiet, orderly people of Paris were fearing a revolution, and for a few moments Desnoyers believed that his cousin's auguries were about to be fulfilled.
Argensola suggested that this would be a good opportunity to uncork one of the many bottles which he was keeping in the kitchen. Tchernoff could go home through the studio door that opened on the stairway.
"And at this very minute, they are shouting with enthusiasm the same as they are doing here, honestly believing that they are going to defend their outraged country, wishing to die for their families and firesides that nobody has threatened." "Who are 'they, Tchernoff?" asked Argensola. The Russian stared at him as though surprised at such a question. "They," he said laconically.
The professor, misinterpreting the silent agreement of the Spaniard who until then had been listening with such a hostile smile, added: "Now is the time to try out in France the German culture, implanting it there as conquerors." Here Argensola interrupted, "And what if there is no such thing as German culture, as a celebrated Teuton says?"
How ashamed I would be to meet him again!" Julio laughed. . . . Argensola! How could that comrade who knew all about their past be an obstacle? If they should happen to meet him in the house, he would be sure to leave immediately. More than once, he had had to go out so as not to be in the way. His discretion was such that he had foreseen events.
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