Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 8, 2025
The night had weighed her down pitilessly with the pressure of many years. All the energy with which she had been working to free Desnoyers disappeared on seeing him again. "Oh, Master . . . Master," she moaned convulsively; and she flung herself into his arms, bursting into tears. Don Marcelo did not need to ask anything further; he dreaded to know the truth.
The short cut to Villeblanche seemed to Desnoyers a leap of millions of leagues, a fall into a red planet where men and things were covered with the film of smoke and the glare of fire. He saw the village under a dark canopy spotted with sparks and glowing embers. The bell tower was burning like an enormous torch; the roof of the church was breaking into flames with a crashing fury.
Desnoyers saw men of his age, pompous and grave, moving their lips and fixing steadfast eyes on the altar on which were reflected like lost stars, the flames of the candles. And again he felt envy. They were fathers who were recalling their childhood prayers, thinking of their sons in battle.
One afternoon, Marguerite announced that henceforth she would see him less frequently. She was attending classes now, and had only two free days. Desnoyers listened, dumbfounded. Classes? . . . What were her studies? . . . She seemed a little irritated at his mocking expression. . . . Yes, she was studying; for the past week she had been attending classes.
"Their affairs are prospering, and he that is rich does not hunt quarrels. That war of which some crazy fools are always dreaming would be an impossible thing." Young Desnoyers renewed his Parisian existence, living entirely in the studio and going less and less to his father's home.
"A true hero! and I, Madame Desnoyers, know something about what that means. . . . His chiefs know how to appreciate him." . . . Julio was a sergeant after having been only two months in the campaign. The captain of his company and the other officials of the regiment belonged to the fencing club in which he had had so many triumphs. "What a career!" he enthused.
"Very well, then; if you are not a Frenchy, shout, 'Down with Napoleon!" And he looked around him to see if Desnoyers might be near, believing that this would displease him greatly. But his son-in-law pursued the even tenor of his way, shrugging his shoulders. "Down with Napoleon!" repeated Julio. And he instantly held out his hand while his grandfather went through his pockets.
He finally ended by involving himself in some speculation; like a gambler who cannot see the roulette wheel without putting his hand in his pocket. His family was right. "To Paris!" For in the Desnoyers' mind, to go to Europe meant, of course, to go to Paris. Let the "aunt from Berlin" keep on chanting the glories of her husband's country!
What was this seduced and useless man, called Julio Desnoyers, doing there, tormenting with his presence a poor woman, trying to turn her from her righteous repentance, insisting on his selfish and petty desires when all humanity was thinking of other things? . . . His cowardice angered him.
The night that he informed him that the Government, the Chambers, the Diplomatic Corps, and even the actors of the Comedie Francaise were going that very hour on special trains for Bordeaux, his companion merely replied with a shrug of indifference. Desnoyers was worrying about other things. That morning he had received a note from Marguerite only two lines scrawled in great haste.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking