This was rather hard
on me, I thought; but while whispering those few words she touched my
hand lightly and turned her wistful eyes with a grateful look on mine,
and I was glad for her sake that I had not blundered.
Presently the old man roused himself again and began talking eagerly,
asking me a hundred wild questions, to which I was compelled to reply,
still trying to keep up the character of the long-lost son just returned
victorious from the wars.
"Tell me where you have fought and overcome the enemy," he exclaimed,
raising his voice almost to a scream. "Where have they flown from you
like chaff before the wind?--where have you trodden them down under
your horses' hoofs?--name--name the places and the battles to me,
Calixto?"
I felt strongly inclined just then to jump up and rush out of the room,
so trying was this mad conversation to my nerves; but I thought of his
daughter Demetria's white, pathetic face, and restrained the impulse.
Then in sheer desperation I began to talk madly as himself. I thought
I would make him sick of warlike subjects. Everywhere, I cried, we had
defeated, slaughtered, scattered to the four winds of heaven, the
infamous Colorados. From the sea to the Brazilian frontier we have
been victorious. With sword, lance, and bayonet we have stormed and
taken every town from Tacuarembo to Montevideo. Every river from the
Yaguaron to the Uruguay had run red with Colorado blood.
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