Since the German and his wife were kept pointedly apart from the family life, they had to put up with these allusions in silence.  Karl, needing protection, constantly shadowed the Frenchman, improving every opportunity to overwhelm him with his eulogies.  He never could thank him enough for all that he had done for him.  He was his only champion.  He longed for a chance to prove his gratitude, to die for him if necessary.  His wife admired him with enthusiasm as “the most gifted knight in the world.”  And Desnoyers received their devotion in gratified silence, accepting the German as an excellent comrade.  As he controlled absolutely the family fortune, he aided Karl very generously without arousing the resentment of the old man.  He also took the initiative in bringing about the realization of Karl’s pet ambition—­a visit to the Fatherland.  So many years in America! . . .  For the very reason that Desnoyers himself had no desire to return to Europe, he wished to facilitate Karl’s trip, and gave him the means to make the journey with his entire family.  The father-in-law had no curiosity as to who paid the expenses.  “Let them go!” he said gleefully, “and may they never return!”

Their absence was not a very long one, for they spent their year’s allowance in three months.  Karl, who had apprised his parents of the great fortune which his marriage had brought him, wished to make an impression as a millionaire, in full enjoyment of his riches.  Elena returned radiant, speaking with pride of her relatives—­of the baron, Colonel of Hussars, of the Captain of the Guard, of the Councillor at Court—­asserting that all countries were most insignificant when compared with her husband’s.  She even affected a certain condescension toward Desnoyers, praising him as “a very worthy man, but without ancient lineage or distinguished family—­and French, besides.”

Karl, on the other hand, showed the same devotion as before, keeping himself submissively in the background when with his brother-in-law who had the keys of the cash box and was his only defense against the browbeating old Patron. . . .  He had left his two older sons in a school in Germany.  Years afterwards they reached an equal footing with the other grandchildren of the Spaniard who always begrudged them their existence, “perfect frights, with carroty hair, and eyes like a shark.”

Suddenly the old man became very lonely, for they had also carried off his second “Peoncito.”  The good Chicha could not tolerate her daughter’s growing up like a boy, parading ’round on horseback all the time, and glibly repeating her grandfather’s vulgarities.  So she was now in a convent in the Capital, where the Sisters had to battle valiantly in order to tame the mischievous rebellion of their wild little pupil.

When Julio and Chichi returned to the ranch for their vacations, the grandfather again concentrated his fondness on the first, as though the girl had merely been a substitute.  Desnoyers was becoming indignant at his son’s dissipated life.  He was no longer at college, and his existence was that of a student in a rich family who makes up for parental parsimony with all sorts of imprudent borrowings.