So the farmer of the chinampa heretofore described as the property of the princess Tula gave expression to his wrath; after which he returned to his employment; that is, he went crawling among the shrubs and flowers, pruning-knife in hand, here clipping a limb, there loosening the loam. Emerging from the thicket after a protracted stay, his ire was again aroused.
“Still there! Thieves maybe, watching a chance to steal. But we shall see. My work is done, and I will not take eyes off of them again.”
The good man’s alarm was occasioned by the occupants of a canoe, which, since sunrise, had been plying about the garden, never stationary, seldom more than three hundred yards away, yet always keeping on the side next the city. Once in a while the slaves withdrew their paddles, leaving the vessel to the breeze; at such times it drifted so near that swells, something like those of the sea when settling into calm, tumbled the surface; far to the south, however, he discerned the canoe, looking no larger than a blue-winged gull.
“It is coming; I see the prow this way. Is the vase ready?”
“The vase! You forget; there are two of them.”
Hualpa looked down confused.
“Does the ’tzin intend them both for Tula?”
Hualpa was the more embarrassed.
“Flowers have a meaning; sometimes they tell tales. Let me see if I cannot read what the ’tzin would say to Tula.”
And Io’ went forward and brought the vases, and, placing them before him, began to study each flower.