"Madame," says the Peruvian quietly to Mrs. Steele, "no von here drink vater; it makes always fery seeck," and he signs to the servant to serve the next course.
"I despise vino blanco," I say; "I'd as soon drink weak vinegar." Nevertheless I sip my second glass, as there is no prospect of anything else.
A "moso" comes in with a big basket containing our purchases. I beckon him to bring it to me, and look among the limes for my precious plantain.
"Señorita," says the Peruvian, breaking off a conversation with Mrs. Steele upon native dishes, "I haf here pineapple sairve vidth ice and sugar and vine; it is dthe most delicieux of all fruit. Allow me to raicommend you." And the waiter puts the tempting plate before me.
"Thank you," I say, "but I am looking for my plantain. Will you have the boy find it, there are so many things in this basket?" A few words between the "moso" and the Baron, the latter smiles a little.
"Très curieux, dthat old voman forget to put in dthat plantain!"
Mrs. Steele's amusement is most offensive.
"My dear, you are in the power of the interpreter; you will find our friend less manageable on shore than on board the San Miguel."
The Baron looks innocence itself and creates a diversion by throwing pieces of roll out over the lattice to the street children, whose black eyes and black fingers appear through the slats. Each piece is received with squeals, a grand rush and protracted squabbling, and finally the more audacious appear at the door. They peep in, throw us a flower and then scuttle away. One tiny beggar brings a small bouquet and puts it in my lap. The Baron gives her a media and says something about "vamos." She flies off, but only to tell the rest of the success of her mission, and the whole horde troop in and pile the corner of the table with more or less faded roses and appeal vociferously for "Media! media!" The Baron, seeing that we are amused, tosses a coin over their heads. It goes over the lattice and into the street, and the black little troop tear out and fight and scuffle under the window. They come in again and again, but finally, Peruvian patience and Mexican medias being alike exhausted, the Baron rises in his seat looking remarkably ferocious, and addresses them in stirring Spanish. The whole crowd take to their heels, tumbling one over another in excited haste.
"What in the world have you said?" asked Mrs. Steele, greatly amused.