. . all for twenty-five dollars a month. Who can compete with
such people! You, Frenchy, you are like me, very serious, and would die
of hunger before passing through certain things. But, mark my words, on
this very account they are going to become a terrible people!"
After brief reflection, the ranchman added:
"Perhaps they are not so good as they seem. Just see how they treat
those under them! It may be that they affect this simplicity without
having it, and when they grin at receiving a kick, they are saying
inside, 'Just wait till my turn comes, and I'll give you three!'"
Then he suddenly seemed to repent of his suspicions.
"At any rate, this Karl is a poor fellow, a mealy-mouthed simpleton who
the minute I say anything opens his jaws like a fly-catcher. He insists
that he comes of a great family, but who knows anything about these
gringoes? . . . All of us, dead with hunger when we reach America, claim
to be sons of princes."
Madariaga had placed himself on a familiar footing with his Teutonic
treasure, not through gratitude as with Desnoyers, but in order to make
him feel his inferiority. He had also introduced him on an equal footing
in his home, but only that he might give piano lessons to his younger
daughter. The Romantica was no longer framing herself in the doorway--in
the gloaming watching the sunset reflections.
Pages:
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84