The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse | Page 6

The Counsellor's Lady, much younger than her important
husband, had from the first attracted the attention of Desnoyers. She,
too, had made an exception in favor of this young Argentinian,
abdicating her title from their first conversation. "Call me Bertha," she
said as condescendingly as a duchess of Versailles might have spoken
to a handsome abbot seated at her feet. Her husband, also protested
upon hearing Desnoyers call him "Counsellor," like his compatriots.
"My friends," he said, "call me 'Captain.' I command a company of the
Landsturm." And the air with which the manufacturer accompanied
these words, revealed the melancholy of an unappreciated man
scorning the honors he has in order to think only of those he does not
possess.
While he was delivering his discourse, Julio was examining his small
head and thick neck which gave him a certain resemblance to a bull dog.
In imagination he saw the high and oppressive collar of a uniform

making a double roll of fat above its stiff edge. The waxed, upright
moustaches were bristling aggressively. His voice was sharp and dry as
though he were shaking out his words. . . . Thus the Emperor would
utter his harangues, so the martial burgher, with instinctive imitation,
was contracting his left arm, supporting his hand upon the hilt of an
invisible sword.
In spite of his fierce and oratorical gesture of command, all the
listening Germans laughed uproariously at his first words, like men
who knew how to appreciate the sacrifice of a Herr Comerzienrath
when he deigns to divert a festivity.
"He is saying very witty things about the French," volunteered the
interpreter in a low voice, "but they are not offensive."
Julio had guessed as much upon hearing repeatedly the word Franzosen.
He almost understood what the orator was saying-- "Franzosen--great
children, light-hearted, amusing, improvident. The things that they
might do together if they would only forget past grudges!" The
attentive Germans were no longer laughing. The Counsellor was laying
aside his irony, that grandiloquent, crushing irony, weighing many tons,
as enormous as a ship. Then he began unrolling the serious part of his
harangue, so that he himself, was also greatly affected.
"He says, sir," reported Julio's neighbor, "that he wishes France to
become a very great nation so that some day we may march together
against other enemies . . . against OTHERS!"
And he winked one eye, smiling maliciously with that smile of
common intelligence which this allusion to the mysterious enemy
always awakened.
Finally the Captain-Counsellor raised his glass in a toast to France.
"Hoch!" he yelled as though he were commanding an evolution of his
soldierly Reserves. Three times he sounded the cry and all the German
contingent springing to their feet, responded with a lusty Hoch while
the band in the corridor blared forth the Marseillaise.

Desnoyers was greatly moved. Thrills of enthusiasm were coursing up
and down his spine. His eyes became so moist that, when drinking his
champagne, he almost believed that he had swallowed some tears. He
bore a French name. He had French blood in his veins, and this that the
gringoes were doing--although generally they seemed to him ridiculous
and ordinary--was really worth acknowledging. The subjects of the
Kaiser celebrating the great date of the Revolution! He believed that he
was witnessing a great historic event.
"Very well done!" he said to the other South Americans at the near
tables. "We must admit that they have done the handsome thing."
Then with the vehemence of his twenty-seven years, he accosted the
jeweller in the passage way, reproaching him for his silence. He was
the only French citizen aboard. He should have made a few words of
acknowledgment. The fiesta was ending awkwardly through his fault.
"And why have you not spoken as a son of France?" retorted the
jeweller.
"I am an Argentinian citizen," replied Julio.
And he left the older man believing that he ought to have spoken and
making explanations to those around him. It was a very dangerous
thing, he protested, to meddle in diplomatic affairs. Furthermore, he
had not instructions from his government. And for a few hours he
believed that he had been on the point of playing a great role in history.
Desnoyers passed the rest of the evening in the smoking room attracted
thither by the presence of the Counsellor's Lady. The Captain of the
Landsturm, sticking a preposterous cigar between his moustachios, was
playing poker with his countrymen ranking next to him in dignity and
riches. His wife stayed beside him most of the time, watching the
goings and comings of the stewards carrying great bocks, without
daring to share in this tremendous consumption of beer. Her special
preoccupation was to keep vacant near her a seat which Desnoyers
might occupy. She considered