“One will be sufficient—if good.”
“They’re all good.”
“Let me hear them, then.”
“First of all, I like California—I love it. Its fine climate, and bright blue sides.”
“Not a bit brighter, or bluer, than those of Spain.”
“Ten times brighter, and ten times bluer. The skies of the Old-World are to those of the New as lead to lapis lazuli. In that respect, neither Spain nor Italy can compare with California. Its seas, too, are superior. Even the boasted Bay of Naples would be but a poor pond alongside that noble sheet of water, far-stretching before our eyes. Look at it!”
“Looking at it through your eyes, I might think so; not through mine. For my part, I see nothing in it to be so much admired.”
“But something on it; for instance, that grand ship out yonder. Come, now; confess the truth! Isn’t that something to admire?”
“But she don’t belong to your bay,” replies the Andalusian.
“No matter. There is on it now, and in it—the ship I mean—somebody who, if I mistake not, has very much interested somebody else—a certain Andalusian lady, by name Iñez Alvarez.”