PART SECOND: THE ISABELS
4. CHAPTER FOUR
(continued)
Decoud, ensconced in the corner of his seat, observed gloomily
Mrs. Gould's old revolutionist, then, offhand--
"Well, and what do you think of it all, Garibaldino?"
Old Giorgio, looking at him with some curiosity, said civilly
that the troops had marched very well. One-eyed Barrios and his
officers had done wonders with the recruits in a short time.
Those Indios, only caught the other day, had gone swinging past
in double quick time, like bersaglieri; they looked well fed,
too, and had whole uniforms. "Uniforms!" he repeated with a
half-smile of pity. A look of grim retrospect stole over his
piercing, steady eyes. It had been otherwise in his time when men
fought against tyranny, in the forests of Brazil, or on the
plains of Uruguay, starving on half-raw beef without salt, half
naked, with often only a knife tied to a stick for a weapon. "And
yet we used to prevail against the oppressor," he concluded,
proudly.
His animation fell; the slight gesture of his hand expressed
discouragement; but he added that he had asked one of the
sergeants to show him the new rifle. There was no such weapon in
his fighting days; and if Barrios could not--
"Yes, yes," broke in Don Jose, almost trembling with eagerness.
"We are safe. The good Senor Viola is a man of experience.
Extremely deadly--is it not so? You have accomplished your
mission admirably, my dear Martin."
Decoud, lolling back moodily, contemplated old Viola.
"Ah! Yes. A man of experience. But who are you for, really, in
your heart?"
Mrs. Gould leaned over to the children. Linda had brought out a
glass of water on a tray, with extreme care; Giselle presented
her with a bunch of flowers gathered hastily.
"For the people," declared old Viola, sternly.
"We are all for the people--in the end."
"Yes," muttered old Viola, savagely. "And meantime they fight for
you. Blind. Esclavos!"
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