“Is it customary for ladies, do you know, Fielding, for ladies who have just been rescued from the horrors of a volcanic island, from perils hideously increased by the association of such a yellow and by no means fangless worm as that”—dropping his head in a cool nod at Antonio—“to inquire into the religious faiths of their preservers?”
The lady Aurora spoke.
“The señorita wishes to know when you changed your religion?”
“Ah, when, indeed?” said I, laughing.
“You were a very good Catholic at Lima, señor?”
“Yes, when I was at Lima, I was a very good Catholic?” said I.
“Then you are the caballero the señorita supposes?”
“Damn ye, you squinting devil, you know better!” thundered Greaves. “Jump forward. We’ve had enough of this.”
The man fled toward the forecastle, noiseless with naked feet. The lady looked frightened.
“Lima, señorita—no!” said I smiting my bosom with force.