You must take me with you. You
must introduce me."
"Master!" the youth would exclaim in surprise, "it isn't yet six months
since I was married! I never go out at night! How you joke!"
Renovates answered with a scornful glance. A fine life! No youth, no
joy! He spent all his money on variegated waistcoats and high collars.
What a perfect ant! He had married a rich woman, since he couldn't catch
the master's daughter. Besides, he was an ungrateful scamp. Now he was
joining the master's enemies, convinced that he could get nothing more
out of him. He scorned him. It was too bad that his protection had
caused him so much inconvenience! He was no artist.
And the master went back with new affection to his companions, those
merry youths, slandering and disrespectful as they were. He recognized
talent in them all.
The gossip about his extraordinary life reached even his daughter, with
the rapid spread which anything prejudicial to a famous man acquires.
Milita scowled, trying to restrain the laughter which the strangeness of
this change aroused. Her father becoming a rake!
"Papa! Papa!" she exclaimed in a comic tone of reproach.
And papa made excuses like a naughty, hypocritical little boy,
increasing by his perturbation his daughter's desire to laugh.
Lopez de Sosa seemed inclined to be indulgent toward his father-in-law.
Poor old gentleman! All his life working, with a sick wife, who was very
good and kind, to be sure, but who had embittered his life! She did well
to die, and the artist did quite as well in making up for the time he
had lost.
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