"It shall be set for you in diamonds, Fraeulein; it will remind you of spilt cocoanut milk and pearl-fishing in Acapulco's shining bay--it will mean to me a woman, Blanca, fine and fair, I found on the ocean. As I think of all it signifies to me, I believe I must ask you to let me keep my pearl," and he gazes into my eyes with such a world of meaning in his own, I look away and trail my hand in the water. "What say you, Fraeulein?" he persists. "I have travelled so far to find it, I have so nearly missed it, and here at last it lies in my possession." "Are you so sure it is in your possession?" I say, looking across to Mrs. Steele, who is rolling the tiny treasure about in her palm. "At least," he says, "it is within the reach of a strong arm, and if a jewel begged is not generously given, it can be snatched out of a capricious hand, if only for safer keeping----" and the Peruvian's deep eyes look into my half-averted face. "My friend does not speak German," I say; "she will think you very rude." Then in English, "Please let me see the pearl again, Mrs. Steele." "It is absolutely flawless," she says, holding it out to me. The Peruvian intercepts it. He draws out of an inner pocket a gold-mounted letter-case and a book of cigarette paper. Deliberately he wraps the pearl in one of the tissue leaves, and, looking steadily at me, pushes the new treasure far into a corner of the crested case. There is more significance than mirth in the laugh with which he says: "I vill show all unbeliefers dthat I know how to value and to _keep_ a pearl vhen I find von." Mrs. Steele succumbs to one of her old headaches on our return to the steamer, and I pass the greater part of the day in seclusion with her. After luncheon, as I linger to superintend the arrangements of the invalid's tea-tray, the Baron joins me. "I am vairy sorry about Madame Steele's headache. Tell me, please, vhat can I do?" "Nothing, thank you," I say; "there is no remedy. She is accustomed to these attacks." "If nodthing does gude dthen vhy stay you efer in dthat room; you vill be ill, too." "Oh, no," I say, "no fear of that." "But," he insists, "if you do nodthing only sit in dthat room, let me stay vidth her and you come out in dthe air. Madame Steele ees not like you; she like me vairy vell." "She likes me better, and I can't leave her." "Haf you no care for your healdth? You air not fit to take care of yourself--dthat old voman in Acapulco vas right; you should nefer be leaf alone." "Doesn't it ever occur to you that I might be so accustomed to managing my own affairs that interference from an outsider might seem strange?" "Outsidah!" he repeats. "I know not dthat word. I know only dthat you American vomans haf yust one fault: you air--how you zay?--spoil vidth too great power; you raispect no von's judgment, you need zome strong man to rule." "To rule!" I echo, scornfully; "that may do for Peruvians, but our women are neither slaves nor imbeciles."