"It is there, senora," he said finally, pointing to the shore lined with twinkling lights.
"I know, I know," said Le Mire impatiently; "but where is it? In what country?"
The poor fellow, too surprised to be offended, stammered the name of his native land between gasps, while Harry and I had all we could do to keep from bursting into laughter.
"Ah," said Desiree in the tone of one who has made an important discovery, "I thought so. Ecuador. Monsieur, Quito is in Ecuador."
The general—or admiral, I forget which—acknowledged the correctness of her geography with a profound bow.
"But yes. I have often heard of Quito, monsieur. It is a very interesting place. I shall go to Quito."
There ensued immediately a babel. Each of our guests insisted on the honor of accompanying us inland, and the thing would most assuredly have ended in a bloody quarrel on the captain's polished deck, if I had not interposed in a firm tone:
"But, gentlemen, we are not going to Quito."
Le Mire looked at me—and such a look! Then she said in a tone of the utmost finality:
"I am going to Quito."