PART SECOND: THE ISABELS
4. CHAPTER FOUR
(continued)
At that moment young Scarfe of the railway staff emerged from the
door of the part reserved for the Signori Inglesi. He had come
down to headquarters from somewhere up the line on a light
engine, and had had just time to get a bath and change his
clothes. He was a nice boy, and Mrs. Gould welcomed him.
"It's a delightful surprise to see you, Mrs. Gould. I've just
come down. Usual luck. Missed everything, of course. This show is
just over, and I hear there has been a great dance at Don Juste
Lopez's last night. Is it true?"
"The young patricians," Decoud began suddenly in his precise
English, "have indeed been dancing before they started off to the
war with the Great Pompey."
Young Scarfe stared, astounded. "You haven't met before," Mrs.
Gould intervened. "Mr. Decoud--Mr. Scarfe."
"Ah! But we are not going to Pharsalia," protested Don Jose, with
nervous haste, also in English. "You should not jest like this,
Martin."
Antonia's breast rose and fell with a deeper breath. The young
engineer was utterly in the dark. "Great what?" he muttered,
vaguely.
"Luckily, Montero is not a Caesar," Decoud continued. "Not the
two Monteros put together would make a decent parody of a
Caesar." He crossed his arms on his breast, looking at Senor
Avellanos, who had returned to his immobility. "It is only you,
Don Jose, who are a genuine old Roman--vir Romanus--eloquent and
inflexible."
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