said in reply—but then they always pointed—they always did that, and we bowed politely and said, “Merci, Monsieur,” and so it was a blighting triumph over the disaffected member, 
POINTING. any way. He was restive under these victories and often asked:
“What did that pirate say?”
“Why, he told us which way to go, to find the Grand Casino.”
“Yes, but what did he say?”
“Oh, it don’t matter what he said—we understood him. These are educated people—not like that absurd boatman."
“Well, I wish they were educated enough to tell a man a direction that goes some where—for we’ve been going around in a circle for an hour—I’ve passed this same old drug store seven times.”
We said it was a low, disreputable falsehood, (but we knew it was not.) It was plain that it would not do to pass that drug store again, though—we might go on asking directions, but we must cease from following finger-pointings if we hoped to check the suspicions of the disaffected member.
A long walk through smooth, asphaltum-paved streets bordered by blocks of vast new mercantile houses of cream-colored stone,—every house and every block precisely like all the other houses and all the other blocks for a mile, and all brilliantly lighted,—brought us at last to the principal thoroughfare. On every hand were bright colors, flashing constellations of gas-burners, gaily dressed men and women thronging the side-walks—hurry, life, activity, cheerfulness, conversation and laughter every where! We found the Grand Hotel du Louvre et de la Paix, and wrote down who we were, where we were born, what our occupations were, the place we came from last, whether we were married or single, how we liked it, how old we were, where we were bound for and when we expected to
