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"Oh, but I can't take your rosary; that's absurd!" "You cannot take a few leedle pieces of vood from your friend? Vhy, dthose leedle voods are only dthe dthe dthe how you say? bones off dthe olive." I laugh till I ache. "Bones of the olive!" I almost roll off the lumber in a spasm of merriment. Mrs.
Efery body loaf you, you loaf nobody, and vhen a man say 'You air charmante, you say 'Vill ve feeshe to-day? If a man say 'You haf eyes wie die Sternen im Himmel' you ask 'Hear you dthose bells of San Blas? and vhen a man say 'I loaf you to deestraction' you tell him 'I do so like dthose qveer Megsican Eendians." The Baron strikes the pavement violently with his stick.
Señorita inseest to lean out far ofer dthose steps; I beg her not, but " he ends with a modest gesture of incompetence. "And you," I begin, with a sudden determination to unmask his villainy, "you rushed over and " "And hold you zo dthat you fall not. Madame Steele, desairve I not dthanks?" "Ah! yes, Baron.
I hate to be bothered with passengers going off " and the Captain walks to the railing to wave his hand with stiff pomposity to a Mexican who sits in the lighter. "You air meestake, Captain," says the Baron de Bach; "all dthose vorkmen say it vill be two days loading dthis café." The Captain, never very good-tempered at the best of times, is especially peppery to-day.
"All dthose burrs on your dress make bleed," he says, looking a bit ruefully at his finger-tips, sore and red, and one stained a little where some obstinate briar or needle has drawn the blood. "Oh! what a shame!" I take the shapely hand in mine and look compassionately at the hurt fingers. "I feel it not, Blanca, vhen you hold it so!"
"See," he says, "she vill gif you all dthose limes if you gif back dthat plantain, you vill be glad of limes abord du San Miguel." "Yes," I say. "I'll have the limes, too." And I put down another media. He looks at me curiously. "Ask her to send them to the hotel," I say. He gives the old woman some rapid directions.
The rugged wilderness of the Cordilleras hems us in on every side. "Dthose air yust the zame mountains I look on from my home in Peru; it ees von chain from Tierra del Fuego to Mexico," and a look of welcome comes into the handsome face. "It ees four years since I zee dthose Cordilleras. I am glad I am near dthem vonce more.
"You must notice after you leaf Acajulta dthe volcano 'Yzalco'; it ees acteef, as you say; it ees all fire by dthe dark of dthe night. And in dthose bay off La Libertad and Puenta Arenas you must look at dthose devil-feesh ach schrecklich; dthey haf terrible great vings vhat dthey wrap around vhat dthey eat." "You speak almost as if you would not be there to point them out on the spot," says Mrs.
Peter meet you at dthe gate and say, 'You haf lif gude life, come into Heaven' you vill fery like look over your shoulder and say, 'Oh, Peter! vhere go all dthose nice leedle devils?" The Peruvian's last shot certainly diverts me from all finny creatures, and we sit down on a pile of lumber, and the Baron shows me his rings and seals tells me where each came from and the story attached.
"After I escort Madame, I go to dthe photographic gallery; I buy you all dthose pictures ve haf not time to get dthis afternoon. I send dthem to your room; you vill not be lonely." "Oh, why can't we all go to the gallery? I do so want a collection of views. I want nothing else so much!" I plead. It ends by our driving to Casa 47, in a wide street opposite the public gardens.
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