"No, madam; I thank you. If I were ambitious, all my wishes would be fulfilled. The Patagonian chiefs have resolved on re-establishing the Empire of the Incas, and they have elected me, who am the direct heir, to succeed the unfortunate Athahualpa; but—"
"They have done you justice."
"This distinction terrifies me, and I fear I cannot bear the weight of an empire. The wounds dealt my race by the Spaniards are old and deep. The Indians have been brutalized by a long servitude. What a task it is to command these disunited tribes! Who will carry on my work if I die in twenty years, two years, tomorrow, perhaps? What will become of the dream of my life?"
"Heaven means you to live long, Don Torribio," Doña Concha answered.
"A diadem on my brow! Stay, señorita, I am discouraged, weary of life; it seems to me that the crown will press my temples like a band of iron, and crush them, and that I shall be buried in my triumph!"
"Dismiss these vain presentiments," the girl remarked, giving a side glance full of meaning.
"As you know, madam, the Tarpeian Rock is close to the Capitol."
"Come, come! Don Torribio," Don Valentine said, gaily; "Let us take our places."
A splendid breakfast had been laid. The first moments passed in silence. The guests seemed embarrassed, but by degrees, thanks to Doña Concha's efforts, the conversation became more animated, Nocobotha, it could be easily seen, was making a violent effort to drive back the flood of thoughts that ran to his lips. Toward the end of the repast he turned to the young lady.
"Señorita," he said to her, "this evening all will be over. I shall be Emperor of the Patagonians, and enemy of the Spaniards, who will doubtless return with arms in their hands to overthrow our empire. What they most dread in an Indian insurrection is the reprisals, that is to say, the massacre of the white men. My marriage with an Argentine is a pledge of peace for your countrymen, and a security for their commerce. Doña Concha, give me your hand."