“Oh, they say,” Walker continued quietly, “that the earth of the gardens lies on interlacing twigs. Naturally before the water filled in as it is now, these twigs moved with the current and carried their burden of earth and flowers along with them.
“This was always a beautiful spot,” he continued, “even back before the Aztecs found the eagle on the cactus and conquered the region and settled their capitol. When they did all this and found themselves with leisure on their hands, the nobles made of this place a playground, and the Aztec papa and mama came here with the Aztec child for Sunday picnics.
“Today, if I hadn’t been as energetic as I am,” he paused and grinned at the snort that this brought forth from Alice’s father, “a descendant of these same Aztecs, who still, by the way, speaks the tongue of his forefathers, would have been plying this gondola. The Aztecs still live around here and still preserve many of the ancient customs of their people.”
He rested the paddle on the side of the canoe as he finished and, as water dripped from it making little rings in the canal, he sat idly dreaming. The canoe drifted along and came to rest under an over-hanging willow. No one spoke. It was a magic moment, for the sun was setting and sending low rays over the water. Tropical birds were singing full-throated songs and in the distance they could hear, faintly, the sound of music.
Finally, Alice spoke. “It can’t be very different,” she said, “than it was centuries ago. For the same exotic flowers ran wild here then that do now, and the same birds sang. How queer that makes me feel. Century after century has unrolled and yet this is the same.”
“I know.” Walker looked across at her. “Makes you feel, doesn’t it, that time isn’t so important after all, that a philosophy in which ‘mañana’ is the all-important word is perhaps not such a bad one after all.”
“Here, here,” Adair MacKenzie broke the spell. “Don’t go preaching that mañana business to these girls. They are lazy enough as it is. Look at them now, will you?”
In truth, the girls did all look comfortable and lazy, entirely at peace with themselves and the world and not at all like the busy energetic beings that they were at school.
“The world doesn’t seem real, does it?” Nan looked at Bess as she made this observation.
“No,” Bess answered. “Not real at all. This, I believe, is the most romantic spot we have ever been in.”