, and so terrible in their
wrath that the enemy could not look them in the face. The concierge and
the stay-at-homes used to listen to him with all the respect due to a
foreign gentleman, knowing much of the great outside world with which
they were not familiar.

"The Cossacks will adjust the accounts of these bandits!" he would
conclude with absolute assurance. "Within a month they will have entered
Berlin."

And his public composed of women--wives and mothers of those who had
gone to war--would modestly agree with him, with that irresistible
desire which we all feel of placing our hopes on something distant and
mysterious. The French would defend the country, reconquering, besides
the lost territories, but the Cossacks--of whom so many were speaking
but so few had seen--were going to give the death blow. The only
person who knew them at first hand was Tchernoff, and to Argensola's
astonishment, he listened to his words without showing any enthusiasm.
The Cossacks were for him simply one body of the Russian army--good
enough soldiers, but incapable of working the miracles that everybody
was expecting from them.

"That Tchernoff!" exclaimed Argensola. "Since he hates the Czar, he
thinks the entire country mad. He is a revolutionary fanatic. . . . And
I am opposed to all fanaticisms."

Julio was listening absent-mindedly to the news brought by his
companion, the vibrating statements recited in declamatory tones, the
plans of the campaign traced out on an enormous map fastened to the wall
of the studio and bristling with tiny flags that marked the camps of the
belligerent armies. Every issue of the papers obliged the Spaniard to
arrange a new dance of the pins on the map, followed by his comments of
bomb-proof optimism.

"We have entered into Alsace; very good! . . . It appears now that we
abandon Alsace. Splendid! I suspect the cause. It is in order to enter
again in a better place, getting at the enemy from behind. . . . They
say that Liege has fallen. What a lie! . . . And if it does fall, it
doesn't matter. Just an incident, nothing more! The others remain . . .
the others! . . . that are advancing on the Eastern side, and are going
to enter Berlin."

The news from the Russian front was his favorite, but obliged him to
remain in suspense every time that he tried to find on the map the
obscure names of the places where the admired Cossacks were exhibiting
their wonderful exploits.

Meanwhile Julio was continu