old overseer, who was now such a grandee in his country
that Julio ironically called him "my uncle."

Desnoyers accepted this rebellion coldly. "It appears just to me. You
are now of age!" Then he promptly reduced to extremes his oversight
of his home, forbidding Dona Luisa to handle any money. Henceforth he
regarded his son as an adversary, treating him during his lightning
apparitions at the avenue Victor Hugo with glacial courtesy as though he
were a stranger.

For a while a transitory opulence enlivened the studio. Julio had
increased his expenses, considering himself rich. But the letters from
his uncle in America soon dissipated these illusions. At first the
remittances exceeded very slightly the monthly allowance that his father
had made him. Then it began to diminish in an alarming manner. According
to Celedonio, all the calamities on earth seemed to be falling upon his
plantation. The pasture land was yielding scantily, sometimes for lack
of rain, sometimes because of floods, and the herds were perishing by
hundreds. Julio required more income, and the crafty half-breed sent him
what he asked for, but simply as a loan, reserving the return until they
should adjust their accounts.

In spite of such aid, young Desnoyers was suffering great want. He was
gambling now in an elegant circle, thinking thus to compensate for his
periodical scrimpings; but this resort was only making the remittances
from America disappear with greater rapidity. . . . That such a man as
he was should be tormented so for the lack of a few thousand francs!
What else was a millionaire father for?

If the creditors began threatening, the poor youth had to bring the
secretary into play, ordering him to see the mother immediately; he
himself wished to avoid her tears and reproaches. So Argensola would
slip like a pickpocket up the service stairway of the great house on the
avenue Victor Hugo. The place in which he transacted his ambassadorial
business was the kitchen, with great danger that the terrible Desnoyers
might happen in there, on one of his perambulations as a laboring man,
and surprise the intruder.

Dona Luisa would weep, touched by the heartrending tales of the
messenger. What could she do! She was as poor as her maids; she had
jewels, many jewels, but not a franc. Then Argensola came to the rescue
with a solution worthy of his experience. He would smooth the way for
the good mother, leaving some of her jewels at the Mont-de-Pi