She had so long been
hidden, she had so long feared every stranger's glance, it was not
strange that she felt ill at ease, and that the banquet was a
grave ordeal for her.
Branch proved to be a happy choice as Esteban's proxy, for he
relieved Norine's anxiety and smothered her apprehensions. When
called upon to speak he made a hit by honestly expressing his
relief at escaping the further hazards of this war. Prompted by
some freakish perversity, and perhaps unduly stimulated by the
wine he had drunk, he made open confession of his amazing
cowardice.
O'Reilly interpreted for him and well-nigh every sentence evoked
laughter. El Demonio's heroic reputation had preceded him,
therefore his unsmiling effort to ridicule himself struck the
audience as a new and excruciatingly funny phase of his
eccentricity. Encountering this blank wall of disbelief, Branch
waxed more earnest, more convincing; in melancholy detail he
described his arrant timidity, his cringing fear of pain, his
abhorrence of blood and steel. His elongated face was genuinely
solemn, his voice trembled, his brow grew damp with unpleasant,
memories; he seemed bent upon clearing his conscience once for
all. But he succeeded only in convulsing his hearers. Women
giggled, men wiped tears from their eyes and declared he was a
consummate actor and the rarest, the most fantastic humorist they
had ever listened to.
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