for his natural good taste, so she stowed away all these little details in her memory in order to pass them on to René. Then she surprised her mother with a demand for a loan that she might send a little gift to her artillery-man.
Don Marcelo gloated over the fifteen days of satisfaction ahead of him. Sub-Lieutenant Desnoyers found it impossible to go out alone, for his father was always pacing up and down the reception hall before the military cap which was shedding modest splendor and glory upon the hat rack. Scarcely had Julio put it on his head before his sire appeared, also with hat and cane, ready to sally forth.
"Will you permit me to accompany you?… I will not bother you."
This would be said so humbly, with such an evident desire to have his request granted, that his son had not the heart to refuse him. 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. He was a hero, and this hero was his son. He accepted as homage to them both the sympathetic glances of the public in the street cars and subways. The interest with which the women regarded the fine-looking youth tickled him immensely. All the other military men that they met, no matter how many bands and crosses they displayed, appeared to the doting father mere embusqués, unworthy of comparison with his Julio.… The wounded men who got out of the coaches by the aid of staffs and crutches inspired him with the greatest pity. Poor fellows!… They did
