It
was a silent war in which the enemy, bland, shapeless and gelatinous,
seemed constantly to be escaping from the hands only to renew
hostilities a little later on.
"I have Germany in my own house," growled Marcelo Desnoyers.
"Germany" was Dona Elena, the wife of von Hartrott. Why had not her
son--that professor of inexhaustible sufficiency whom he now believed to
have been a spy--taken her home with him? For what sentimental caprice
had she wished to stay with her sister, losing the opportunity of
returning to Berlin before the frontiers were closed?
The presence of this woman in his home was the cause of many
compunctions and alarms. Fortunately, the chauffeur and all the
men-servants were in the army. The two chinas received an order in a
threatening tone. They must be very careful when talking to the French
maids--not the slightest allusion to the nationality of Dona Elena's
husband nor to the residence of her family. Dona Elena was an
Argentinian. But in spite of the silence of the maids, Don Marcelo was
always in fear of some outburst of exalted patriotism, and that his
wife's sister might suddenly find herself confined in a concentration
camp under suspicion of having dealings with the enemy.
Frau von Hartrott made his uneasiness worse. Instead of keeping a
discreet silence, she was constantly introducing discord into the home
with her opinions.
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