Desnoyers, as he took out one of his memorandum books.

This volume contained the pedigree of the famous animals which had
improved his breeds of stock, the genealogical trees, the patents of
nobility of his aristocratic beasts. He would have to read its contents
to him since he did not permit even his family to touch these records.
And with his spectacles on the end of his nose, he would spell out the
credentials of each animal celebrity. "Diamond III, grandson of Diamond
I, owned by the King of England, son of Diamond II, winner in the
races." His Diamond had cost him many thousands, but the finest horses
on the ranch, those which brought the most marvellous prices, were his
descendants.

"That horse had more sense than most people. He only lacked the power
to talk. He's the one that's stuffed, near the door of the parlor. The
girls wanted him thrown out. . . . Just let them dare to touch him! I'd
chuck them out first!"

Then he would continue reading the history of a dynasty of bulls
with distinctive names and a succession of Roman numbers, the same as
kings--animals acquired by the stubborn ranchman in the great cattle
fairs of England. He had never been there, but he had used the cable in
order to compete in pounds sterling with the British owners who wished
to keep such valuable stock in their own country. Thanks to these
blue-blooded sires that had crossed the ocean with all the luxury of
millionaire passengers, he had been able to exhibit in the concourses
of Buenos Aires animals which were veritable towers of meat, edible
elephants with their sides as fit and sleek as a table.

"That book amounts to something! Don't you think so, Frenchy? It is