going to come? "It will be a boy," he announced positively, "because I
need one so. It shall be named Julio, and I hope that it will look like
my poor dead wife."

Since the death of his wife he no longer called her the China, feeling
something of a posthumous love for the poor woman who in her lifetime
had endured so much, so timidly and silently. Now "my poor dead wife"
cropped out every other instant in the conversation of the remorseful
ranchman.

His desires were fulfilled. Luisa gave birth to a boy who bore the name
of Julio, and although he did not show in his somewhat sketchy features
any striking resemblance to his grandmother, still he had the black
hair and eyes and olive skin of a brunette. Welcome! . . . This WAS a
grandson!

In the generosity of his joy, he even permitted the German to enter the
house for the baptismal ceremony.

When Julio Desnoyers was two years old, his grandfather made the rounds
of his estates, holding him on the saddle in front of him. He went from
ranch to ranch in order to show him to the copper-colored populace, like
an ancient monarch presenting his heir. Later on, when the child was
able to say a few words, he entertained himself for hours at a time
talking with the tot under the shade of the eucalyptus tree. A certain
mental failing was beginning to be noticed in the old man. Although not
exactly in his dotage, his aggressiveness was becoming very childish.
Even in his most affectionate moments, he used to contradict everybody,
and hunt up ways of annoying his relatives.