muskets, some black and stark like reed plantations, others ending in
bayonets like shining spikes. And over all these restless fields of
seething throngs, the flags of the regiments were fluttering in the air
like colored birds; a white body, a blue wing, or a red one, a cravat of
gold on the neck, and above, the metal tip pointing toward the clouds.

Don Marcelo would return home from these send-offs vibrating with
nervous fatigue, as one who had just participated in a scene of racking
emotion. In spite of his tenacious character which always stood out
against admitting a mistake, the old man began to feel ashamed of his
former doubts. The nation was quivering with life; France was a grand
nation; appearances had deceived him as well as many others. Perhaps the
most of his countrymen were of a light and flippant character, given to
excessive interest in the sensuous side of life; but when danger came
they were fulfilling their duty simply, without the necessity of the
harsh force to which the iron-clad organizations were submitting their
people.

On leaving home on the morning of the fourth day of the mobilization
Desnoyers, instead of betaking himself to the centre of the city, went
in the opposite direction toward the rue de la Pompe. Some imprudent
words dropped by Chichi, and the uneasy looks of his wife and
sister-in-law made him suspect that Julio had returned from his trip. He
felt the necessity of seeing at least the outside of the studio windows,
as if they might give him news. And in order to justify a trip so at
variance with his policy of ignoring his son, he remembered that the
carpenter lived in the same street.

"I must hunt up Robert. He promised a week ago that he would come here."