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But that gentleman seemed to have exhausted the
subject, or himself.
"It's only a few minutes' walk," he observed. "We'll take a couple of
sunshades."
They stepped into the broiling heat. The morning mists had rolled away
from the mountains.
Walking along, Mr. Heard began to realize what a rambling and craggy
sort of place this was. And how decorative! Almost operatic. The town
was full of surprises--of unexpected glimpses upon a group of slender
palms, some gleaming precipice, or the distant sea. Gardens appeared to
be toppling over the houses; green vines festooned the doorways and
gaily coloured porches; streets climbed up and down, noisy with
rattling carriages and cries of fruit-vendors who exposed their wares
of brightest hues on the pavement. Country women, in picturesque
cinnamon-coloured skirts, moved gravely among the citizens. The houses,
when not whitewashed, showed their building stone of red volcanic tufa;
windows were aflame with cacti and carnations; slumberous oranges
glowed in courtyards; the roadways underfoot were of lava--pitch-black.


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