He shook his head.
“Well, then, I don’t know what to do. After all, keep them.”
Next day, accordingly, when I departed, I took the precious package, thinking that we should return from Cuba, to which we were bound, by way of Mexico, and that I should then look up the owners of “my” jewels.
In Cuba all our plans were changed. We left directly for New York, with the object of returning at once to Europe. Consequently I have never given back the jewels.
I sometimes wonder what my friends of some hours must think of a woman who dared to accept, under protest, the presents that were tendered her.
While we were in Mexico I had occasion to offer a cheque payable in New York for some books I was buying.
No one, absolutely no one, wanted to accept it. Then I went to the Chief of Police, General Carbadjadoes, whom I knew and he telegraphed to a New York bank, from which the reply was received that, “Loie Fuller’s cheques are perfectly good.”
That put an end to any reluctance among the merchants, who afterward, on the contrary, overwhelmed me with all sorts of propositions.
My most vivid impressions of Mexico were of the abounding and well-regulated enthusiasm of the upper classes and the extraordinary insolence of the tradespeople. The whole character of the country is expressed in these two traits.
On the liner that took us to the United States Pierre Mortier, for I shall have to mention him once more, made the acquaintance of a young Roumanian, who seemed to be a well-bred man, a very well-bred man. In Mortier enthusiasm is as easily evoked as is condemnation, and he presented this man to me in a most cordial manner.