air.

"Where?" she whispered, watching him with her bright amber eyes.

"That's just it," he said. "I don't know where."

She put her finger to her lips.

"I know," she said.

He put his hands on her shoulders and held her away a little, staring at
her.

"You!" he breathed incredulously. "You?"

She nodded, her eyes kindling.

"Here," he said hoarsely. "You must be straight with me, dear. Tell me
what you know. The captain, he's very funny to-day."

"Ismir!" she called into his ear in a ringing tone. "Beautiful,
beautiful Ismir!"

"What's that you're talking about?" he demanded doubtfully. "I don't
understand."

"No? Soon you will understand, when we reach Ismir."

"I've never heard of it," he declared. "But I can tell you, if the Old
Man don't alter the course, we're going straight into Smyrna."

"Ah, yes," she sighed. "I remember now. You call it that. We call it
Ismir, Turkish place. When I was little, little girl, we arrive there,
my fazzer and my muzzer. Oh, beautiful! The grand hotels, the _bains_,
the _plage_, the _quais_, the mountains, the _cafes-chantant_. _Aiee!_
And Bairakli! I will show you. I was little, thirteen years old." She
laughed, a soft throaty chuckle, on his shoulder, at some reminiscence.
"Ismir! _Oh mein lieber Mann!_"

She intoxicated him with her bewildering moods, with her trick of
recalling to his memory his early dreams of beautiful women, those
bright shadows of unseen enchantresses which had tortured and stimulated
his boyish thoughts. But he could not refrain from returning to the
serious problem of how she knew so accurately the intentions of his
commander.

"The captain tell you?" he asked expectantly. Her brow grew dark and a
blankness like a film came over her eyes.

"I do not like your _capitaine_," she muttered. "He is like an old
woman. Look at his face. And the silver ring on his wrist. Like an old
vulture, his head between his shoulders. Look at him. He never lifts his
eyes. Do not speak of him. But hear me now. When we reach Ismir, we will
have a house, you and me, eh?"

He stared at her, entranced, yet preoccupied with the overwhelming
difficulties of his situation.

"Oh, _mon cher_, you do not know how beautiful it is. The most beautiful
city in the world."

"But how did you know? Why didn't you tell me? Did Mrs. Dainopoulos tell
you?"

"Ssh! Madame Dainopoulos is an angel. She like you an' me very much. But
Monsieur Dainopoulos, he say to me, if