I shook my head.
"Twenty-seven! It is a cruel lose, it is ruin—but take them, only take them."
I still retreated, still wagging my head.
"Mon Dieu, they shall even go for 26! There, I have said it. Come!"
I wagged another negative. A nurse and a little English girl had been near me, and were following me, now. The shopwoman ran to the nurse, thrust the beads into her hands, and said,—
"Monsieur shall have them for 25! Take them to the hotel—he shall send me the money to-morrow—next day—when he likes." Then to the child: "When thy father sends me the money, come thou also, my angel, and thou shalt have something oh so pretty!"
I was thus providentially saved. The nurse refused the beads squarely and firmly, and that ended the matter.
The "sights" of Geneva are not numerous. I made one attempt to hunt up the houses once inhabited by those two disagreeable people, Rousseau and Calvin, but had no success. Then I concluded to go home. I found it was easier to propose to do that than to do it; for that town is a bewildering place. I got lost in a tangle of narrow and crooked streets, and staid lost for an hour or two. Finally I found a street which looked somewhat familiar, and said to myself, "Now I am at home, I judge." But I was wrong; this was "Hell street." Presently I found another place which had a familiar look, and said to myself, "Now I am at home, sure." It was another error. This was "Purgatory street." After a little I said, "Now I've got to the right place, anyway.…no, this is 'Paradise street;' I'm further from home than I was in the beginning." Those were queer names—Calvin was the author of them, likely. "Hell" and "Purgatory" fitted those two streets like a glove, but the "Paradise" appeared to be sarcastic.
I came out on the lake front, at last, and then I knew where
