"It seems to me, however, that In-Salah—" I said, a little vexed.
"In-Salah? Tidi-Kelt! But, my poor friend, the last time that I passed that way there were as many old newspapers and empty sardine boxes as if it had been Sunday in the Wood of Vincennes."
Such a determined, such an evident desire to annoy me made me forget my reserve.
"Evidently," I replied resentfully, "I have never been to—"
I stopped myself, but it was already too late.
He looked at me, squarely in the face.
"To where?" he said with good humor.
I did not answer.
"To where?" he repeated.
And, as I remained strangled in my muteness: