Muriel hesitated.
"Why?" she enquired.
"It is beautiful, the promenade here," explained von Klausen. "It is the most picturesque portion of the Bois, though none of the artificiality of the Bois well compares with the nature of my own country, which you have been good enough to visit."
His words roused her antagonism. She experienced a perverse impulse to contradict him. She looked out at the Lac Inférieur, with its shaded banks and its twin islands, on one of which stood a little restaurant in imitation of a Swiss chalet. She was resolved to prefer this to his Austrian Tyrol, if for no better reason than that he claimed the Austrian Tyrol as his own.
"I like these woods better than your mountains," she declared.
"Better? But—why?"
"Your mountains are too lonely and fierce. These woods are pleasant and inviting."
"Good. We shall then accept their invitation," said von Klausen, smiling.
He leaped out and offered her his hand. Muriel, acknowledging herself fairly caught, lightly touched his hand and descended. The Captain turned to the driver.
"Meet us at the Cascade," he directed.