Chichi also wished to return because Rene was now filling the greater part of her thoughts.  Absence had shown her that she was really in love with him.  Such a long time without seeing her little sugar soldier! . . .  So the family abandoned their hotel life and returned to the avenue Victor Hugo.

Since the shock of the first September days, Paris had been gradually changing its aspect.  The nearly two million inhabitants who had been living quietly in their homes without letting themselves be drawn into the panic, had accepted the victory with grave serenity.  None of them could explain the exact course of the battle; they would learn all about it when it was entirely finished.

One September Sunday, at the hour when the Parisians are accustomed to take advantage of the lovely twilight, they had learned from the newspapers of the great triumph of the Allies and of the great danger which they had so narrowly escaped.  The people were delighted, but did not, however, abandon their calm demeanor.  Six weeks of war had radically changed the temperament of turbulent and impressionable Paris.

The victory was slowly restoring the Capital to its former aspect.  A street that was practically deserted a few weeks before was now filled with transients.  The shops were reopening.  The neighbors accustomed to the conventional silence of their deserted apartment houses, again heard sounds of returning life in the homes above and below them.

Don Marcelo’s satisfaction in welcoming his family home was considerably clouded by the presence of Dona Elena.  She was Germany returning to the encounter, the enemy again established within his tents.  Would he never be able to free himself from this bondage? . . .  She was silent in her brother-in-law’s presence because recent events had rather bewildered her.  Her countenance was stamped with a wondering expression as though she were gazing at the upsetting of the most elemental physical laws.  In reflective silence she was puzzling over the Marne enigma, unable to understand how it was that the Germans had not conquered the ground on which she was treading; and in order to explain this failure, she resorted to the most absurd suppositions.

One especially engrossing matter was increasing her sadness.  Her sons. . . .  What would become of her sons!  Don Marcelo had never told her of his meeting with Captain von Hartrott.  He was maintaining absolute silence about his sojourn at Villeblanche.  He had no desire to recount his adventures at the battle of the Marne.  What was the use of saddening his loved ones with such miseries? . . .  He simply told Dona Luisa, who was alarmed about the possible fate of the castle, that they would not be able to go there for many years to come, because the hostilities had rendered it uninhabitable.  A covering of zinc sheeting had been substituted for the ancient roof in order to prevent further injury from wind and rain to the wrecked interior.  Later on, after peace had been declared, they would think about its renovation.  Just now it had too many inhabitants.  And all the ladies, including Dona Elena, shuddered in imagining the thousands of buried bodies forming their ghastly circle around the building.  This vision made Frau von Hartrott again groan, “Ay, my sons!”