The cavalier thanked him and looked about. The building was of the customary massiveness and severity of style, modified somewhat by numerous windows and niches, and by the sculptured border surrounding each doorway. This decoration struck Cristoval forcibly as being identical with the simpler forms of Grecian frets seen in European architecture. Among the trees on either side were smaller buildings for the accommodation of the Palla's servants. The site had been chosen with the fine appreciation of natural beauty of surroundings characteristic of the ancient Peruvians. From the foot of the hill the lake spread out like a mirror, reflecting in perfect detail every rugged feature of the opposite mountains, with here and there a streak of silver where its surface was ruffled by the morning breeze. To the right was the village of Xilcala, and ten miles or more beyond, the narrow gorge through which the waters of the lake found exit on their way to the distant sierra. On his left, toward the canyon he had descended the day before, was a stretch of rolling fields with groups of men at work, and he caught the plaintive melody of a ploughing-song. He listened, impressed by the sense of peace which pervaded the valley, and descended the steps to the avenue. The bank was terraced to the water's edge, each terrace with its trees, shrubbery, winding paths, and nooks with benches inviting idleness. At the margin of the lake was a sunny space, or hemicycle, from which opened a charming panorama of the lake; and surrounding it were broad, high-backed stone seats, shaded by overhanging foliage. One bench was covered with rugs and cushions, and bits of half-finished embroidery indicated the recent presence of the ladies.
The cavalier turned into the path along the shore. He had not gone far before he heard voices, and another step brought him face to face with his hostess. She was advancing slowly, her arms encircling a maiden on each side. They walked with hands resting affectionately on her shoulders, bending forward and listening, the attention of all so engaged in conversation that Cristoval had been unheard. The Palla started slightly when she perceived her guest, but disengaged herself and came to greet him.
"May the Sun shine kindly upon you this morning, Viracocha Cristoval," she said, offering her hand. "I rejoice to see that your recent hardships have left few traces."
Her cordiality and freedom from constraint, due in part to his altered appearance, but in a great degree also to Rava's influence, placed the cavalier at ease, and he forgot his knees.
"The traces must be deep indeed," he replied, "not to be banished by the gracious hospitality of the Palla Maytalca. The hardships are no longer remembered."
"I fear you belittle them," she said, with a smile and a slight flush. "The Ñusta Rava hath already told me much of your terrible journey, and my wonder that she endured it is only less than my thankfulness that she had so good a guardian."
Cristoval bowed again. "The Ñusta Rava hath rare spirit. I trust she will quickly regain her strength, Palla Maytalca."
Cristoval showed his anxiety, and the lady hastened to assure him that his ward needed only rest. "But now," she said, "let me make you known to my young companions," and she called to the damsels a few steps away. Their timidity at approaching a Viracocha, to them a fabulous and dreaded being, was dissipated by his simple kindliness of manner, and when the quartet reached the hemicycle the first reserve had gone. The maidens were the daughters of the curaca of Xilcala, the Palla explained, and spent much of their time with her, acquiring what accomplishments she could impart, and affording her welcome companionship in return. They were handsome, graceful girls, and compared favorably, Cristoval thought, with the señoritas of Castile.
All three were soon engaged with their embroidery, Maytalca often pausing to listen breathlessly to the cavalier's details of the flight from Caxamalca. He gave them simply, passing over incidents that involved his own courage, and dwelling with quiet enthusiasm upon Rava's fortitude. But his hostess had heard from the Ñusta more of the former than of the latter, and she was rapidly coming to share the estimate of him held by his grateful protégée. At his mention of the Cañares her face became grave.
"I fear them, Viracocha Cristoval," she said, seriously. "They are as wolves on the track of a wounded deer. It is a tribe which hath cost the Incas most heavily to subdue, and their subjection hath never been complete. They were conquered first by the Inca Tupac Yupanqui, but revolted some years ago and were repressed at terrible sacrifice of life. The tribe hath never taken kindly to our laws and institutions, and hath always resisted the benevolent efforts of the Incas to lift them from savagery. It is true, they fought with our unhappy Huascar against Atahualpa, but they were influenced, I have always thought, less by loyalty to Tavantinsuyu than by their native treachery, for they were once subject to Quito. Now they hate Quito and Cuzco alike, and I wonder not at their traitorous alliance with the invaders.—Pardon me, Viracocha Cristoval!"