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.     

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