"I know what your sorrows have been," replied Cristoval, kindly, "but I believe one, at least, is near its end."
"Oh, I thank you for your words of hope!" she murmured. "I feared that a change in your leader’s purpose had brought my brother’s heaviness of heart. I will try to cheer him."
"Do so. Assure him that he hath other friends among Spaniards besides myself. It is true."
"He is sure of you, Viracocha Cristoval," she said gratefully. "But now, let me keep you no longer. I heard a trumpet some minutes ago. It called you, did it not?"
"Then you must go. I pray the Sun may brighten your way and give you safe return."
"Farewell, and Heaven guard you, Ñusta Rava!" He touched her fingers with his lips and hastened away.
As he passed up the avenue the trumpets were sounding the "Mount," and in his haste he failed to notice a burly figure in the shelter of a by-path. It was Mendoza. He had been waiting Pizarro’s return from seeing the departure of De Soto’s troop, and, presuming upon the commander’s determination to make away with the Inca, whom Mendoza already considered as good as dead, he had invaded the forbidden precincts of the garden. Perceiving Cristoval and the Princess Rava, he had stepped unobserved into the shrubbery, and watched the interview with a scowling sneer.
"Aha, my conscientious buck cavalier!" he muttered, peering out as Cristoval strode away. "Stolen meetings with Her Highness? Tears and kissed hands at parting? By the fiend, that smelleth of romance!—And we have been wondering at thy continence, thou cursed sly dog, whilst thou hast been spreading thy net for the very pick of the flock! Oho! But wait!—let us see, _amigo mio_! Methinks the cards are to be dealt again, and thou’lt have no hand.—And thou dost nurse so charitable an interest in the Señorita Ñusta’s brother? Hum! And I have stumbled upon its source thus unexpectedly? Even so! _Bien_! But, _adiós_, my gallant. Thou’lt find more than one change on thy return to Caxamalca,—among others, a division of spoil upon which thou ’rt not counting, whereof I see a pearl to which I’ll lay claim in Pizarro’s ear this very morning.—She cometh this way, now! I’ll step out and give her greeting. Curse me! why have I not learned a few words of her heathen tongue? I know but three,—_curi_, gold; _collque_, silver; and _chicha_. Good words, but not suited to the present need. However, _no importa_—let it pass. Much can be said in dumb show. We’ll make it answer. Now, let us see if we cannot be made to forget our Cristoval."