That which he
was eating was his, the wine was from his vaults; all that adorned
the room he had bought: the trees whose boughs were waving outside the
window also belonged to him. . . . And yet he felt as though he were in
this place for the first time, with all the discomfort and diffidence of
a total stranger. He ate because he was hungry, but the food and wines
seemed to have come from another planet.
He continued looking with consternation at those occupying the places of
his wife, children and the Lacours. . . .
They were speaking in German among themselves, but those having a
limited knowledge of French frequently availed themselves of that
language in order that their guest might understand them. Those who
could only mumble a few words, repeated them to an accompaniment of
amiable smiles. All were displaying an amicable desire to propitiate the
owner of the castle.
"You are going to lunch with the barbarians," said the Count, offering
him a seat at his side. "Aren't you afraid that we may eat you alive?"
The Germans burst into roars of laughter at the wit of His Excellency.
They all took great pains to demonstrate by word and manner that
barbarity was wrongly attributed to them by their enemies.
Don Marcelo looked from one to another. The fatigues of war, especially
the forced march of the last days, were very apparent in their persons.
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