Karl gazed at him like a faithful hound trusting in his master.
These trying interviews were repeated on all his trips. Then, on
returning to the ranch, he would find the old man ill-humored, moody,
looking fixedly ahead of him as though seeing invisible power and
wailing, "It is my punishment--the punishment for my sins."
The memory of the discreditable circumstances under which he had made
Karl's acquaintance, before bringing him into his home, tormented
the old centaur with remorse. Some afternoons, he would have a horse
saddled, going full gallop toward the neighboring village. But he was
no longer hunting hospitable ranches. He needed to pass some time in
the church, speaking alone with the images that were there only for
him--since he had footed the bills for them. . . . "Through my sin,
through my very great sin!"
But in spite of his self-reproach, Desnoyers had to work very hard
to get any kind of a settlement out of the old penitent. Whenever he
suggested legalizing the situation and making the necessary arrangements
for their marriage, the old tyrant would not let him go on. "Do what you
think best, but don't say anything to me about it."
Several months passed by. One day the Frenchman approached him with a
certain air of mystery. "Elena has a son and has named him 'Julio' after
you."
"And you, you great useless hulk," stormed the ranchman, "and that weak
cow of a wife of yours, you dare to live tranquilly on without giving
me a grandson! .
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