And she would brandish her knife of the old Peoncito days--a dagger with silver handle and sheath richly chased, a gift that her grandfather had exhumed from some forgotten souvenirs of his childhood in an old valise.

The very first German that she came across was doomed to death.

Dona Luisa was terrified to find her flourishing this weapon before her dressing mirror.

She was no longer yearning to be a cavalryman nor a diable bleu.

She would be entirely content if they would leave her, alone in some closed space with the detested monster.