“I am the living Huitzilopochtli,” he murmured to her in a sort of ecstasy.
“You are Malintzi,” he said. “The bride of Huitzilopochtli.”
The convulsion of exultance went over his face. He took her hand in his left hand, and they stood facing the bluish light.
“Cover your face!” he said to her.
They covered their faces in the salute.
“Now salute Quetzalcoatl.” And he flung up his arm. She held out her left hand, in the woman’s salute.
Then they turned to the statue of Huitzilopochtli.
“Salute Huitzilopochtli!” he said, bringing his right fist down with a smash in the palm of his left hand. But this was the male salute. He taught her to press her hands together in front of her breast, then shoot them out towards the idol.
Then he put a little lamp of earthenware between the feet of Huitzilopochtli. From the right knee of the idol he took a little black vessel of oil, making her take a little white vessel from the god’s left knee.
“Now,” he said, “together we fill the lamp.”