CHAPTER XII.
The hunter, Cacami, was heart free when he first entered Zelmonco Park, but not unsusceptible to heart wounds when subjected to such fascinating glances as greeted him from Itlza's eyes. An impassioned admiration for her was quickly awakened, and a way prepared for him to become an easy prey to Cupid's subtle influence.
When about to leave the villa the next morning, to continue his homeward journey, he sought the maiden with a view to having a parting word with her. Great was his disappointment when he learned that she was absent, and that no one knew where she was. He had counted on finding in his departure an opportunity in which to reveal to her, by word or action, something of the feelings with which she had inspired him. But the fates appeared to order it otherwise, and he would be compelled to forego the pleasure such a parting would afford him. Concealing his disappointment under a semblance of cheerfulness he bade his host and hostess adieu and started for the highway.
Leaving the park he came to the road leading away from the villa, and turned his face toward Tezcuco. As he did so the first object to meet his eye and arouse him from the effects of his disappointment was Itlza herself, approaching from the opposite direction. Was it chance or design which caused the maiden to be there just at that time? She alone could have answered. But no matter; the sight of her lifted Cacami from the slough of despond, so to speak, into which he had fallen, and made him doubly glad in the sudden revulsion of his feelings. His whole appearance was changed in an instant, and with quickened pulse he hastened forward to meet her. He came up to her with pleasure beaming from his countenance, and in accents full of tender meaning exclaimed:
"O Laughing-eyes, light of thy home! why were you not present to gladden my departure from the villa but now? To Cacami the brightness of Zelmonco was gone because you were not there to receive his good-by."
"Why should my absence so affect the hunter, Cacami, when only a night hath divided the days which have made us known to each other?" she answered, naively.
"It is not the number of days that affect our lives, O Laughing-eyes, but what they bring," he replied. "To Cacami those beautiful, sparkling orbs, your eyes, O Itlza, are as two newly risen stars. To have been deprived of the privilege this morning of again looking into their wonderful depths would have robbed his stay at Zelmonco of its greatest charm, and cast a regretful shadow on his pathway home."
"Cacami is neither discreet nor wise in the use of language. The words he speaks are pleasing; and Itlza, being a woman, might believe them spoken in sincerity, when only gallantry is intended. Have a care, O Cacami, that thy tongue lead thee not into deception," she replied with a coquettish air.
"I pray you, Laughing-eyes, believe me sincere. Were I possessed of a deceitful tongue, which I can not think I am, I could not impose it on the sister of my good friend, the tzin. That would be baseness of which Cacami is not capable," he protested. "The clear crystal fountains which spring from the side of yonder mountain are not more pure than are the thoughts which he holds for Laughing-eyes," the young hunter went on, with an earnestness which bespoke sincerity.
"Cacami may be sincere, and his words well meant, but Itlza should not hear them. Let us talk of something else. Have you a sister?"
"Yes, two, who will give me welcome home when I cross my father's threshold," he replied with respectful deference.
"You ought to be very happy, then, in your homecomings," she replied.
"So I have ever been. It is a good and pleasant home which always waits me, and it will be very hard to leave it," he returned, with a shade of sadness in his voice.
"Why should you leave it?" she questioned, her voice tinged with a responsive sympathy.
"Why should anyone leave their childhood's home? Even Laughing-eyes will one day go from her beautiful Zelmonco to find another home. To do so is her natural destiny, as it is mine to leave the home I love," he answered, with an expression of tenderness, at the same time watching closely to observe the effect his words might have upon her. If she suspected a hidden meaning in them she did not show it.
"Is it far to your home?" she asked, appearing heedless of his impassioned voice.
"As far beyond as it is from here to Tezcuco—about four hours," he answered. "Your question admonishes me that I must not tarry. I would that Laughing-eyes will hold me kindly in her thoughts. Could I be assured that she will, it would please me more than she can know," he said, seriously.
"You will come again and I will know you better; till then good-by," she answered airily, accompanying her words with the same fascinating glance which had won his admiration. His already excited pulse quickened under its influence.
As she hastened away in the direction of the villa he looked after her with a strange, uncertain sensation, which made him feel as if he had found a priceless gem and was now about to lose it. He watched her receding form until out of sight, and then mentally soliloquized:
"Why should this strange maiden so impress me? More beautiful have I looked upon, and yet no such feelings as she has awakened have ever stirred me before. Can it be that I have found a mate in Laughing-eyes?" His concluding thought was not an unpleasant one, as the expression on his face clearly indicated. Again his steps were turned toward Tezcuco, and with rapid strides he widened the space which separated him from the object of his thoughts.
Cacami may not have found a mate in the sister of his newly made friend; yet, if appearances were any criterion, had the object of his first love.
Itlza was not void of self-pride, and following on the very favorable impressions she had formed of the young hunter, the flattering words addressed to her by him were not without effect. She recalled some of them with a pleasurable satisfaction, and held them as something to be remembered, a very dangerous thing for a young girl like her to do if she would not be ensnared in the meshes of love's enthralling web.
Cacami returned from his home to the villa about noon the following day. Euetzin was expecting him, as he had assured the tzin that he would report the result of a conference with his father immediately, let the conclusion be what it might. When he came up to Euetzin, who had gone to the lower side of the park to meet him, it did not require words to communicate his decision. The glad confirmation of the tzin's wishes was seen on his radiant countenance.
"My friend is pleased, and I do not have to inquire the cause," said he, in greeting him. "I read upon your face, Cacami, that we are to be comrades in the fight for freedom."
"Yes, we are," returned Cacami. "This good right arm," he continued, raising it by way of emphasis, "I have pledged, through my father, to the cause of Tezcuco and her prince. Your proposition, that I should become your assistant in the work which you have undertaken was favorably considered, and I am here to join you."
"Your decision is gratifying. In it the cause which has become so dear to me has found a strong arm to labor in its defense, and I a worthy comrade. But come, you have traveled, and are, no doubt, hungry and thirsty. Refreshments are waiting."
As they were ascending the hill, through the park, Cacami inquired:
"Have you had any news from the palace of the prince, since your return?"
"What news might I expect? Hualcoyotl is not there."
"True, the prince is not there, but Itzalmo—is not that the name of the old man who was his tutor?"
"It is, but what of him? Your words remind me that I have been remiss; I should have gone to Itzalmo ere this," replied the tzin.
"That you could not have done, for Itzalmo is in prison."
The tzin stopped and looked at Cacami as if he did not comprehend, and said:
"In prison, did you say? And for what offense, pray?"
"For what offense I did not learn."
"Where and when did you hear of his imprisonment?"
"On the streets of Tezcuco, yesterday. Six days ago, 'tis said, the king's officer took him to Azcapozalco," answered Cacami.
"And he has not returned?"
"No, he is still in prison."
"I must learn more of this matter, immediately," returned the tzin thoughtfully.
They entered the house, where Cacami met with a kindly greeting from Teochma and Itlza.
After refreshments were served, Euetzin made known his purpose of going to Tezcuco to obtain further information relative to Itzalmo. He left Cacami to be entertained by Itlza, observing that she could show him the beauties of the park, and thus keep him from becoming lonesome.
O, thoughtless brother! Lonesome, indeed! Nothing could have delighted Cacami more than the prospect of a whole afternoon with Itlza.
Euetzin had been gone quite a while, and Itlza, as he had suggested, had taken Cacami over the ground which comprised the villa park, showing him the most interesting of its features, of which the family were justly proud. She had finally brought him to her favorite retreat, in the shade of an old oak tree, at the foot of which stood a rustic bench, and, a little way off from it, a beautiful flowing fountain, which added coolness to the spot, and made it especially inviting.
Itlza was seated on the bench beneath the tree, toying with a bunch of odorous flowers, while Cacami reclined on the ground, almost at her feet.
"You are fleet of tongue, O Cacami, and your voice is like the cooing of a dove. The words fall from your lips as readily as flowing water from a hillside spring. But the thoughts which fill your mind are hidden. Who but yourself may read them?" she was saying, provokingly, in answer to something he had said.
"Surely, Laughing-eyes, you can not think me capable of holding thoughts, which are not in accord with my words? I may be impulsive and hasty, but not deceitful," he answered, with an honest emphasis on his words.
It was clearly a case of love at first sight with Cacami, and his impulsiveness led him to show it plainly. Itlza was more discreet, and would not so easily surrender to the dictates of a smitten heart. She was, nevertheless, fast falling under the influence of the subtle little archer, though, woman-like, persisted in fighting it off. In answer to Cacami's expostulation, she said:
"I would not seem unkind, but would put a check upon your tongue. You are scarcely more than a stranger to me. Two days ago you did not know that such a person lived as I; and yet, in that short time, you are pleading to hear a song from the little love-bird which nestles in Itlza's heart. Know you not, O Cacami, that the little bird is chary, and may be easily frightened away?" she replied archly, but kindly.
"Your words are severe, Laughing-eyes, yet of them I may be deserving, for I have been impetuous; but I can not think my conduct should drive you from me, in that you are surely jesting. I am not a trifler, Itlza, and, believe me, never one spoke more sincerely. Only bid me hope, and I will be your silent slave."
We would not have the reader think that Cacami was foolish, for he was not. He was unquestionably stricken with that peculiar affection which, ever since the first man and woman were brought face to face, has held the loftiest minds, and brought under subjection the strongest wills, making slaves of all, willing or unwilling, to the object through the attraction of which the affection is produced, causing men of intelligence, not infrequently, to fall into ridicule. Still, recognizing the innateness of the thing, we look upon such conduct as a natural consequence.
Cacami's fault was in not restraining his impulsiveness. He read in the words which fell from Itlza's lips that she was not wholly indifferent to his wooing, and, as a last earnest, plead for a hope.
Itlza's reply was not very encouraging.
"To bid you hope might be to deceive you," she said. "No, you must not ask it of me. If the time should come when the little love-bird would sing its song for Cacami, he shall know it. Promise, then, to speak no more of love until you have permission, and Itlza will be your friend."
"A wish from you, O Laughing-eyes, is a command to me. I will do the best I can; but should I fail, it will be for love of you." He spoke pathetically, and Itlza's heart went out to him with a sudden impulse, and a more adroit wooer than he might have won there and then, but Cacami had promised, and the opportunity passed unimproved.
"I have your promise, then?" asked the persistent Itlza.
"Yes," he answered, resignedly.
She laughed at his sober acquiescence and pathetic yes, and said:
"Your ready submission almost persuades me to believe you sincere. But, there, do not speak," she suddenly added, anticipating him, as he looked up at her fondly, showing in his expression that he was about to put some thought into words. She placed her hand over his mouth, and continued: "I do believe you would violate your promise before it is cold upon your lips."
He put her hand away gently, and said:
"You shall not again have occasion to check me. Laughing-eyes shall learn that Cacami can hold his tongue."
Euetzin came back from Tezcuco toward evening, and found the twain still lingering under the oak tree near the fountain. The mother came from the house, too, and a half hour was passed in listening to an account of his visit to the city and what it revealed, at the conclusion of which they went in for refreshments.
The day ended, and night followed, bringing the morning, when Euetzin, with his newly acquired friend and comrade, set out to continue the prosecution of his patriotic mission.