These
gentlemen had the youth of their own country in the hollow of their hand
and were not obliged to risk their capital in other lands. The same hard
luck pursued him when, with sudden demonstrations of affection, he had
tried to convince Don Marcelo that three thousand francs a month was but
a niggardly trifle.
The millionaire fairly snorted with indignation. "Three thousand francs
a trifle!" And the debts besides, that he often had to pay for his son!
. . .
"Why, when I was your age," . . . he would begin saying--but Julio would
suddenly bring the dialogue to a close. He had heard his father's story
too many times. Ah, the stingy old miser! What he had been giving him
all these months was no more than the interest on his grandfather's
legacy. . . . And by the advice of Argensola he ventured to get control
of the field. He was planning to hand over the management of his land to
Celedonio, the old overseer, who was now such a grandee in his country
that Julio ironically called him "my uncle."
Desnoyers accepted this rebellion coldly. "It appears just to me. You
are now of age!" Then he promptly reduced to extremes his oversight
of his home, forbidding Dona Luisa to handle any money. Henceforth he
regarded his son as an adversary, treating him during his lightning
apparitions at the avenue Victor Hugo with glacial courtesy as though he
were a stranger.
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