Ay, her son! . . . All her thoughts, her conjectures, her desires,
converged on him and her strong-willed husband. She longed for the men
to come to an understanding and put an end to a struggle in which she
was the principal victim. Would not God work this miracle? . . . Like
an invalid who goes from one sanitarium to another in pursuit of health,
she gave up the church on her street to attend the Spanish chapel on the
avenue Friedland. Here she considered herself even more among her own.

In the midst of the fine and elegant South American ladies who looked
as if they had just escaped from a fashion sheet, her eyes sought other
women, not so well dressed, fat, with theatrical ermine and antique
jewelry. When these high-born dames met each other in the vestibule,
they spoke with heavy voices and expressive gestures, emphasizing their
words energetically. The daughter of the ranch ventured to salute them
because she had subscribed to all their pet charities, and upon
seeing her greeting returned, she felt a satisfaction which made her
momentarily forget her woes. They belonged to those families which her
father had so greatly admired without knowing why. They came from the
"mother country," and to the good Chicha were all Excelentisimas or
Altisimas, related to kings. She did not know whether to give them her
hand or bend the knee, as she had vaguely heard was the custom at court.
But soon she recalled her preoccupation and went forward to wrestle
in prayer with God. Ay, that he would mercifully remember her! That he
would not long forget her son! . . .

It was Glory that remembered Julio, stretching out to him her arms of
light, so that he suddenly awoke to find himself surrounded by all the
honors and advantages of celebrity. Fame cunningly surprises mankind on
the most crooked and unexpected of roads. Neither the painting of souls
nor a fitful existence full of extravagant love affairs and complicated
duels had brought Desnoyers this renown. It was Glory that put him on
his feet.

A new pleasure for the delight of humanity had come from the other side
of the seas. People were asking one another in the mysterious tones of
the initiated who wish to recognize a familiar spirit, "Do you know how
to tango? . . ." The tango had taken possession of the world. It was
the heroic hymn of a humanity that was suddenly concentrating its
aspirations on the harmonious rhythm of the thigh joints, measuring its
intelligence by the