A few minutes
after he returned with full hands. Never before had he been so generous.
Foreseeing pressing necessity, the hungry man put his hands in his
pockets as usual, but was astonished to learn from the orderly's
emphatic gestures that he did not wish any money.
"Nein. . . . Nein!"
What generosity was this! . . . The German persisted in his negatives.
His enormous mouth expanded in an ingratiating grin as he laid his heavy
paws on Marcelo's shoulders. He appeared like a good dog, a meek dog,
fawning and licking the hands of the passer-by, coaxing to be taken
along with him. "Franzosen. . . . Franzosen." He did not know how to
say any more, but the Frenchman read in his words the desire to make him
understand that he had always been in great sympathy with the French.
Something very important was evidently transpiring--the ill-humored air
of those left behind in the castle, and the sudden servility of this
plowman in uniform, made it very apparent. . . .
Some distance beyond the castle he saw soldiers, many soldiers. A
battalion of infantry had spread itself along the walls with trucks,
draught horses and swift mounts. With their pikes the soldiers were
making small openings in the mud walls, shaping them into a border of
little pinnacles. Others were kneeling or sitting near the apertures,
taking off their knapsacks in order that they might be less hampered.
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