"Ah," said Desiree in the tone of one who has made an important
discovery, "I thought so. Ecuador. Monsieur, Quito is in
Ecuador."
The general--or admiral, I forget which--acknowledged the
correctness of her geography with a profound bow.
"But yes. I have often heard of Quito, monsieur. It is a very
interesting place. I shall go to Quito."
There ensued immediately a babel. Each of our guests insisted on
the honor of accompanying us inland, and the thing would most
assuredly have ended in a bloody quarrel on the captain's
polished deck, if I had not interposed in a firm tone:
"But, gentlemen, we are not going to Quito."
Le Mire looked at me--and such a look! Then she said in a tone
of the utmost finality:
"I am going to Quito."
I shook my head, smiling at her, whereupon she became furious.
"M. Lamar," she burst forth, "I tell you I am going to Quito! In
spite of your smile! Yes! Do you hear? I shall go!"
Without a word I took a coin from my pocket and held it up. I had
come to know Le Mire. She frowned for a moment in an evident
attempt to maintain her anger, then an irresistible smile parted
her lips and she clapped her hands gaily.
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