n a grove near the
house.

"He's after my dollars," howled the irate father. "He wants America to
enrich him quickly at the expense of the old Spaniard, and that is
the reason for so much truckling, so much psalm-singing and so much
nobility! Imposter! . . . Musician!"

And he repeated the word "musician" with contempt, as though it were the
sum and substance of everything vile.

Very firmly and with few words, Desnoyers brought the wrangling to an
end. While her brother-in-law protected her retreat, the Romantica,
clinging to her mother, had taken refuge in the top of the house,
sobbing and moaning, "Oh, the poor little fellow! Everybody against
him!" Her sister meanwhile was exerting all the powers of a discreet
daughter with the rampageous old man in the office, and Desnoyers had
gone in search of Karl. Finding that he had not yet recovered from the
shock of his terrible surprise, he gave him a horse, advising him to
betake himself as quickly as possible to the nearest railway station.

Although the German was soon far from the ranch, he did not long remain
alone. In a few days, the Romantica followed him. . . . Iseult of the
white hands went in search of Tristan, the knight.

This event did not cause Madariaga's desperation to break out as
violently as his son-in-law had expected. For the first time, he saw him
weep. His gay and robust old age had suddenly fallen from him, the news
having clapped ten years on to his four score. Like a child, whimpering
and tremulous, he threw his arms around Desnoyers, moistening his neck
with tears.

"He has taken her away! That son of a great flea . . . has taken her
away!"

This time he did not lay all the blame on his China. He wept with her,
and as if trying to console her by a public confession, kept saying over
and over:

"It is my fault. . . . It has all been because of my very, very great
sins."

Now began for Desnoyers a period of difficulties and conflicts. The
fugitives, on one of his visits to the Capital, threw themselves on his
mercy, imploring his protection. The Romantica wept, declaring that only
her brother-in-law, "the most knightly man in the world," could save
her. Karl gazed at him like a faithful hound trusting in his master.
These trying interviews were repeated on all his trips. Then, on
returning to the ranch, he would find the old man ill-humored, moody,
looking fixedly ahead of him as though seeing invisible power and
wailing, "It is my puni