"Oh, yes, of course, he's a good-enough fellow," said Madariaga,
excusing himself. "But he comes from a land that I detest."

When Desnoyers made a trip to Buenos Aires a few days afterward, the
cause of the old man's wrath was explained. It appeared that for some
months past Madariaga had been the financial guarantor and devoted swain
of a German prima donna stranded in South America with an Italian opera
company. It was she who had recommended Karl--an unfortunate countryman,
who after wandering through many parts of the continent, was now
living with her as a sort of gentlemanly singer. Madariaga had joyously
expended upon this courtesan many thousands of dollars. A childish
enthusiasm had accompanied him in this novel existence midst urban
dissipations until he happened to discover that his Fraulein was leading
another life during his absence, laughing at him with the parasites of
her retinue; whereupon he arose in his wrath and bade her farewell to
the accompaniment of blows and broken furniture.

The last adventure of his life! . . . Desnoyers suspected his abdication
upon hearing him admit his age, for the first time. He did not intend
to return to the capital. It was all false glitter. Existence in the
country, surrounded by all his family and doing good to the poor was
the only sure thing. And the terrible centaur expressed himself with
the idyllic tenderness and firm virtue of seventy-five years, already
insensible to temptation.

After his scene with Karl, he had increased the German's salary, trying
as usual, to counteract the effects of his violent outbreaks with
generosity. That which he could not forget was his dependent's nobility,
constantly making it the subject of new jests. That glorious boast had
brought to his mind the genealogical trees of the illustrious ancestry