"Our girl, Marcelo. . . . Our girl!" And the girl,
object of so much solicitude, would laugh with the assurance of vigorous
youth on hearing of her mother's anxiety. "Just let the shameless
fellows come! I shall take great pleasure in seeing them face to face!"
And she clenched her right hand as though it already clutched the
avenging knife.
The father became tired of this situation. He still had one of his
monumental automobiles that an outside chauffeur could manage. Senator
Lacour obtained the necessary passports and Desnoyers gave his wife
her orders in a tone that admitted of no remonstrance. They must go to
Biarritz or to some of the summer resorts in the north of Spain. Almost
all the South American families had already gone in the same direction.
Dona Luisa tried to object. It was impossible for her to separate
herself from her husband. Never before, in their many years of married
life, had they once been separated. But a harsh negative from Don
Marcelo cut her pleadings short. He would remain. Then the poor senora
ran to the rue de la Pompe. Her son! . . . Julio scarcely listened to
his mother. Ay! he, too, would stay. So finally the imposing automobile
lumbered toward the South carrying Dona Luisa, her sister who hailed
with delight this withdrawal before the admired troops of the Emperor,
and Chichi, pleased that the war was necessitating an excursion to the
fashionable beaches frequented by her friends.
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