"No; Blanche does seem a little tired. I couldn't let her go. I think we must trust your taste, Baron; I can hardly spare the time and strength for any more exploring tonight."
"No, indeed, you mustn't go," says Mrs. Baldwin. "I've some wonderful antiquities from a buried Aztec city to show you. When you finish those views"—she glances at me—"you'll find us in the next room. I won't say good-bye to you, Baron; of course, you'll be back. Come, Mrs. Steele"—and they go into an adjoining room.
"If you air not too tire, Señorita, you better come to dthe gallery and choose dthe pictures. Dthe Consul say it ees near here."
"Oh, really? Yes, I'll go; I know just the ones Mrs. Steele wants. You will tell her where we've gone, won't you?—we won't be long," I say to Mrs. Baldwin's young sister, who is chattering French to the consul.
"Yes," she answers. "It's my opinion you won't find the gallery open so late as this; but, of course, you can try."
"Oh, I hope it won't be shut. Good-bye."
"Good-bye."
The small servant nodding on the veranda takes us past the palm-shaded patio, and through the dark vestibule.
"Gracias!" I say to the dusky little servitor as the huge door opens.
"Si! Si! Dthousand thanks," mutters the Baron as the bolts fall behind us, and we are out in the moonlit street. He draws my hand through his arm.