"Down with Napoleon!" repeated Julio.
And he instantly held out his hand while his grandfather went through
his pockets.
Karl's sons, now four in number, used to circle around their grandparent
like a humble chorus kept at a distance, and stare enviously at these
gifts. In order to win his favor, they one day when they saw him alone,
came boldly up to him, shouting in unison, "Down with Napoleon!"
"You insolent gringoes!" ranted the old man. "That's what that shameless
father has taught you! If you say that again, I'll chase you with a
cat-o-nine-tails. . . . The very idea of insulting a great man in that
way!"
While he tolerated this blond brood, he never would permit the slightest
intimacy. Desnoyers and his wife often had to come to their rescue,
accusing the grandfather of injustice. And in order to pour the vials of
his wrath out on someone, the old plainsman would hunt up Celedonio, the
best of his listeners, who invariably replied, "Yes, Patron. That's so,
Patron."
"They're not to blame," agreed the old man, "but I can't abide them!
Besides, they are so like their father, so fair, with hair like a
shredded carrot, and the two oldest wearing specs as if they were court
clerks! . . . They don't seem like folks with those glasses; they look
like sharks."
Madariaga had never seen any sharks, but he imagined them, without
knowing why, with round, glassy eyes, like the bottoms of bottles.
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