"Gualichu, who loves the Indians," she said, "has sent me to the matchi of the Aucas."
"Ah!" the sorcerer answered, in a mocking accent, "And what does he want with me?"
"No one but yourself must hear it."
The matchi walked up to the maiden, laid his hand on her shoulder, and looked at her with a longing air.
"Will you save me?" she asked him in a low voice.
"That depends," the fellow answered, his eye sparkling with desire, "it is in your own hands." She repressed a look of disgust.
"Stay," she said, as she removed from her arms her rich gold bracelets, set with fine pearls.
"Och!" said the Indian, as he concealed them in his bosom, "That is fine; what does my daughter want?"
"Deliver us first from these men."
"Fly!" the matchi shouted, turning to the spectators; "This woman is under an evil spell; Gualichu is irritated. Fly!"