Alice realized that he felt interested in recovering. His youth and his uniform reminded him of another. I was also alone in the world, was a foreigner, a residue of the war that everyone thought fatally condemned to death.

But then could not avoid a feeling of jealousy against this poor girl dark and sick. He lived at all hours near Alice, as he could not be admitted to their “village” or simply as a visitor. Why? …

He had several weeks speculating, watching a chance to meet Alice. After that evening was in his arms, wiping her tears, containing the contortions of his despair, kissing her forehead with a fraternal pain, the gate of Villa-Rosa had closed behind him forever. “Come tomorrow,” Alice moaned goodbye. And the next day he cut Valeria pace with confusing aspect that tells a lie. “The Duchess can not receive the Duchess wants to be alone.” This refusal had been repeated unexplained in the following days, more and more dryness. Now it was the only one left fielder when the bell rang, speaking through the gate.

His defiance made him commit a number of actions puerile and debasing. Hanging around near the “village” as a jealous, facing the curiosity of passers-by, using the most absurd pretexts to hide his hopes, hiding in a hurry when you opened the gate giving vent to someone in the house. This surveillance only served to arouse their anger. Twice he had to hide while Lieutenant Martinez, standing in his old uniform, which had been very wide, galvanized the thinness of sick by a desire to be healthy and arrogant, Villa-Rosa entered by the door wide open wide, as if he were the owner.