The first thing that Ferragut noticed was the visible diminution of German refugees.

Months before he had met them everywhere, filling the hotels and monopolizing the cafes,—­their green hats and open-neck shirts making them recognized immediately.  The German women in showy and extravagant gowns, were everywhere kissing each other when meeting, and talking in shrieks.  The German tongue, confounded with the Catalan and the Castilian, seemed to have become naturalized.  On the roads and mountains could be seen rows of bare-throated boys with heads uncovered, staff in hand, and Alpine knapsack on the back, occupying their leisure with pleasure excursions that were at the same time, perhaps, a foresighted study.

These Germans had all come from South America,—­especially from Brazil, Argentina, and Chile.  From Barcelona they had, at the beginning of the war, tried to return to their own country but were now interned, unable to continue their voyage for fear of the French and English cruisers patrolling the Mediterranean.

At first no one had wished to take the trouble to settle down in this land, and they had all clustered together in sight of the sea with the hope of being the first to embark at the very moment that the road of navigation might open for them.

The war was going to be very short....  Exceedingly short!  The Kaiser and his irresistible army would require but six months to impose their rule upon all Europe.  The Germans enriched by commerce were lodged in the hotels.  The poor who had been working in the new world as farmers or shop clerks were quartered in a slaughter house on the outskirts.  Some, who were musicians, had acquired old instruments and, forming strolling street bands, were imploring alms for their roarings from village to village.

But the months were passing by, the war was being prolonged, and nobody could now discern the end.  The number of those taking arms against the medieval imperialism of Berlin was constantly growing greater, and the German refugees, finally convinced that their wait was going to be a very long one, were scattering themselves through the interior of the state, hunting a more satisfying and less expensive existence.  Those who had been living in luxurious hotels were establishing themselves in villas and chalets of the suburbs; the poor, tired of the rations of the slaughter-house, were exerting themselves to find jobs in the public works of the interior.

Many were still remaining in Barcelona, meeting together in certain beer gardens to read the home periodicals and talk mysteriously of the works of war.