It is conceivable, therefore, that Rava's delicacy, ingenuousness, and gentleness of nature, together with his consciousness of protectorship, and of her implicit faith in him, should have stirred in his strong heart the affection whose many evidences she had not failed to read. The sense of guardianship alone, to a man of his stalwart and generous temperament, would have gone far toward creating the sentiment; more than that, in addition to the attraction of her youth and beauty, he felt the charm of a graceful and high-bred mind. Her culture was not Christian, but it was culture, nevertheless. The Inca civilization was refined; more so, in many respects, than that of Spain at the period, and the children of the sovereigns and nobles were scrupulously trained in such knowledge and accomplishments as their rank demanded. And so, although Rava was unaware that the earth was round, that her continent had been discovered by one Cristoval Colon, and that Charles the Fifth was emperor of the Holy Roman Empire, until she had been informed by Cristoval, yet he found her a gentlewoman and quite the intellectual equal of any he had known across the sea. She was, in fact, as he discovered, better versed in the lore of her people than were most Christian girls in the scanty knowledge then afloat in Europe. Learning was not deemed an entirely desirable possession for women in the Old World, nor were there many avenues open to them for its acquirement. Rava's lack of information in matters familiar to the cavalier was therefore not disturbing.
Of infinitely more concern was her paganism, and this Cristoval set about to correct. He found her a willing and grateful listener. Her unquestioning faith in him was broad enough to cover every word he spoke. If she accepted the fact that the earth was a sphere, she would have believed it flat again had he said so the next moment—or that it was a cube, or upside-down, or inside-out. Ah, Cristoval, it was well for this trusting heart that thine was true and chivalrous! Hadst been the Antichrist thou wouldst have had a gentle votary ready for martyrdom for her faith in thee!
Rava renounced her gods. She learned her Aves, Paternosters, and Credo, and accepted Cristoval's rosary and crucifix, nevermore to be laid aside.
"Cristoval," she said one day, "dost think my soul is saved?"
"Thy soul saved!" he replied, looking fondly down into the soft eyes. "I would that the souls of half the Christians, or mine own, were near as sure of Heaven as thine. Some day we must have thee baptized. If I could but lay hands upon the good Father Tendilla! However, that will come about. Meantime, be diligent with thy prayers, and we shall have no fear."
As we may be sure, a new bond was thus created; and Cristoval, as spiritual preceptor, took on new lustre for his grateful proselyte. The good cavalier, now relieved of fear for her soul's welfare, returned earnest thanks to the Virgin, and looked upon his ward with affection growing perilously fast.
But, alas! Rava was paying dearly for their idyl in Xilcala. At night she knelt with tears, his crucifix tight-clasped, and with a hundred prayers for every one he enjoined. And her prayers were not the litanies prescribed, but supplications such as many a maiden, borne down by the sense of love unreturned, has made before and since. Thus, through long hours she knelt, until weariness drove her to her pillow.
In the mornings the swollen eyelids were excused to the solicitous Maytalca with pleas of sleeplessness. But the settled sadness was not explained. It vanished momentarily in Cristoval's presence, to return and be noted by him in silence. He asked no question, but there was often questioning in his eyes, and asked thus it was hardest to bear. Many times when she read it she turned from him with quivering lips, and then his impulse to take her again in his arms was dangerously strong. But he forced it down relentlessly, with a whispered prayer to San Antonio of transcendent continence. Only once he took her hand, tremulous and unresisting; but the quick rising of color to her cheeks and the deepening of her eyes warned him of the frail barrier between them and peril, and he relinquished it with the faintest pressure. But that night Rava prayed without tears!
Stout-hearted Cristoval! It cost sorely to turn away from the light half veiled by those drooping lashes, but the inevitable parting was always before him. Soon he must fly Tavantinsuyu—if, by the grace of Heaven, the way should be open. If not flight, then death in the attempt; and in either event what would be left behind? The gentlest breast that ever sheltered a womanly heart torn by lifelong grief. No; he would give no further sign. The dearer the happiness now, the deeper the wound for each to carry to the grave. And what was his vow to Atahualpa? Ah, Blessed Virgin, lend thy strength!
So, while Rava wept and offered midnight prayer, Cristoval paced his room and offered none. The sunlight of Xilcala had grown dim for both. The cloud was not unnoticed by Maytalca; with a woman's intuition she divined the cause, with a woman's delicacy forbore to speak; and pressed the desolate girl in tacit sympathy, longing, but not daring to bid them both to hope. They were more constantly together than before, driven by the impulse that would not accept defeat. But alone, they walked or sat in silence seldom broken by words.