"Very well," she cried, "toss, monsieur! Heads!"
The coin fell tails, and we did not go to Quito, much to the
disappointment of our guests. Le Mire forgot all about it in ten
minutes.
Five days later we dropped anchor at Callao.
This historic old port delighted Le Mire at once. I had told her
something of its story: its successive bombardments by the
liberators from Chile, the Spanish squadron, buccaneering
expeditions from Europe and the Chilean invaders; not to mention
earthquakes and tidal waves. We moored alongside the stone pier
by the lighthouse; the old clock at its top pointed to the hour
of eight in the morning.
But as soon as Le Mire found out that Lima was but a few miles
away, Callao no longer held any interest for her. We took an
afternoon train and arrived at the capital in time for dinner.
There it was, in picturesque old Lima, that Le Mire topped her
career. On our first afternoon we betook ourselves to the
fashionable paseo, for it was a band day, and all Lima was out.
In five minutes every eye in the gay and fashionable crowd was
turned on Le Mire. Then, as luck would have it, I met, quite by
chance, a friend of mine who had come to the University of San
Marcos some years before as a professor of climatology.
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