During the first days of the war, she kept herself locked in her room,
joining the family only when summoned to the dining room. With tightly
puckered mouth and an absent-minded air, she would then seat herself at
the table, pretending not to hear Don Marcelo's verbal outpourings
of enthusiasm. He enjoyed describing the departure of the troops, the
moving scenes in the streets and at the stations, commenting on events
with an optimism sure of the first news of the war. Two things were
beyond all discussion. The bayonet was the secret of the French, and the
Germans were shuddering with terror before its fatal, glistening point.
. . . The '75 cannon had proved itself a unique jewel, its shots being
absolutely sure. He was really feeling sorry for the enemy's artillery
since its projectiles so seldom exploded even when well aimed. . . .
Furthermore, the French troops had entered victoriously into Alsace;
many little towns were already theirs.
"Now it is as it was in the '70's," he would exult, brandishing his fork
and waving his napkin. "We are going to kick them back to the other side
of the Rhine--kick them! . . . That's the word."
Chichi always agreed gleefully while Dona Elena was raising her eyes to
heaven, as though silently calling upon somebody hidden in the ceiling
to bear witness to such errors and blasphemies.
Pages:
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284