It had been so each evening, and while Joam Garral, always silent, was contented to listen, the young people gayly chatted away till bedtime.
“Ah! our splendid river! our magnificent Amazon!” exclaimed the young girl, whose enthusiasm for the immense stream never failed.
“Unequaled river, in very truth,” said Manoel; “and I do not understand all its sublime beauties. We are going down it, however, like Orellana and La Condamine did so many centuries ago, and I am not at all surprised at their marvelous descriptions.”
“A little fabulous,” replied Benito.
“Now, brother,” said Minha seriously, “say no evil of our Amazon.”
“To remind you that it has its legends, my sister, is to say no ill of it.”
“Yes, that is true; and it has some marvelous ones,” replied Minha.
“What legends?” asked Manoel. “I dare avow that they have not yet found their way into Para—or rather that, for my part, I am not acquainted with them.”
“What, then do you learn in the Belem colleges?” laughingly asked Minha.
“I begin to perceive that they teach us nothing,” replied Manoel.