“It is a fête-day, and the Ivizan peasants are all en grande tenue....”
(page [130])
“Very Corot-like is the landscape, with Santa Eulália crowning a small eminence by the seashore.”
(page [134])
When we reached St. Antonio, a village of clean whitewashed houses, with reefs of bedrock cropping up in the streets, we got out our camera, and were soon surrounded by a friendly group of peasants fully as much interested in our appearance as we were in theirs. Yet in no way did their curiosity get the better of their manners. We found them quite willing to be photographed if we wished it, but the posing of a group was unaccompanied by any of the bashful giggling with which our own yokels would meet such a request coming from a foreigner. Earnest and dignified, quite devoid of self-consciousness, and not easily moved to mirth, the Ivizans struck us as the most perfect-mannered people we had yet met.
The mere fact of our being English was a great recommendation in the eyes of the natives, for the forthcoming marriage of King Alfonso with an English princess was of course the topic of the day, and all classes were equally delighted with the match. As compatriots of their future Queen we therefore met with an unusually favourable reception, and though I am sure none of the peasants had the remotest idea where England was situated we found a great bond of union to consist in the fact that both we and they lived on an island.
Many were the questions we had to answer—Did one reach England before getting to America? Was England far from London?