Tchernoff did not appear to enjoy visits and conversation.  He would smile enigmatically into his black beard, and was very sparing with his words so as to shorten the interview.  But Argensola possessed the means of winning over this sullen personage.  It was only necessary for him to wink one eye with the expressive invitation, “Do we go?” and the two would soon be settled on a bench in the kitchen of Desnoyers’ studio, opposite a bottle which had come from the avenue Victor Hugo.  The costly wines of Don Marcelo made the Russian more communicative, although, in spite of this aid, the Spaniard learned little of his neighbor’s real existence.  Sometimes he would mention Jaures and other socialistic orators.  His surest means of existence was the translation of periodicals or party papers.  On various occasions the name of Siberia escaped from his lips, and he admitted that he had been there a long time; but he did not care to talk about a country visited against his will.  He would merely smile modestly, showing plainly that he did not wish to make any further revelations.

The morning after the return of Julio Desnoyers, while Argensola was talking on the stairway with Tchernoff, the bell rang.  How annoying!  The Russian, who was well up in advanced politics, was just explaining the plans advanced by Jaures.  There were still many who hoped that war might be averted.  He had his motives for doubting it. . . .  He, Tchernoff, was commenting on these illusions with the smile of a flat-nosed sphinx when the bell rang for a second time, so that Argensola was obliged to break away from his interesting friend, and run to open the main door.

A gentleman wished to see Julio.  He spoke very correct French, though his accent was a revelation for Argensola.  Upon going into the bedroom in search of his master, who was just arising, he said confidently, “It’s the cousin from Berlin who has come to say good-bye.  It could not be anyone else.”

When the three came together in the studio, Desnoyers presented his comrade, in order that the visitor might not make any mistake in regard to his social status.

“I have heard him spoken of.  The gentleman is Argensola, a very deserving youth.”

Doctor Julius von Hartrott said this with the self-sufficiency of a man who knows everything and wishes to be agreeable to an inferior, conceding him the alms of his attention.

The two cousins confronted each other with a curiosity not altogether free from distrust.  Although closely related, they knew each other very slightly, tacitly admitting complete divergence in opinions and tastes.