“My child, and his,” answered my mother, and I felt her fingers close tight on my hand.
“Oh, you did well to bring her. There is yet a drop of the old blood left; I see it in her face.”
The weird creature drew nearer and kissed me. I bore it without a shudder.
“Can it be to-morrow?” said my mother, calmly, as if she had been speaking of a June festival.
“Yes,” was the savage reply. “The people will not wait, Chaleco, most of all.”
“Let him be sent for.”
“No,” said the Sibyl with a touch of feeling, “he shall not gloat over your shame more than the rest. Go in yonder—you have broken one half the oath, for the rest”——
“I am ready—I am ready, only let it be soon,” said my mother—“at daylight.”
“In yonder! daylight will soon come,” answered the Sibyl, pointing to the inner room. “I will go and prepare the people. They thought you dead. How they will stare when Papita tells them of her trick. They think her old, worn out, dull—she who can throw sand in the eyes of a whole tribe.”