Finding that he had not yet recovered from the
shock of his terrible surprise, he gave him a horse, advising him to
betake himself as quickly as possible to the nearest railway station.
Although the German was soon far from the ranch, he did not long remain
alone. In a few days, the Romantica followed him. . . . Iseult of the
white hands went in search of Tristan, the knight.
This event did not cause Madariaga's desperation to break out as
violently as his son-in-law had expected. For the first time, he saw him
weep. His gay and robust old age had suddenly fallen from him, the news
having clapped ten years on to his four score. Like a child, whimpering
and tremulous, he threw his arms around Desnoyers, moistening his neck
with tears.
"He has taken her away! That son of a great flea . . . has taken her
away!"
This time he did not lay all the blame on his China. He wept with her,
and as if trying to console her by a public confession, kept saying over
and over:
"It is my fault. . . . It has all been because of my very, very great
sins."
Now began for Desnoyers a period of difficulties and conflicts. The
fugitives, on one of his visits to the Capital, threw themselves on his
mercy, imploring his protection. The Romantica wept, declaring that only
her brother-in-law, "the most knightly man in the world," could save
her.
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