“It is true, Lady,” I replied, “that he offers me these things,—though whether or no he is able to give them I cannot say; and it is true also that I have no wife here whom I must leave, and no prospect save that of a traitor’s death. Still, Lady, I remember a certain promise that I made to you yonder in the wilderness, when by your courage you saved your husband’s life; and I remember also that it was through me that he, my friend, came to visit this accursed city. Therefore I say, let our fate be one fate.”
“Those are very noble words, friend,” she said, “such as could have come only from your noble heart. Now, husband, do you speak?”
“I have nothing to say, Maya,” replied the señor with a little laugh, “except that I wonder why you waste time, which we might spend happily together, in listening to this fellow’s insults. If you bid me to go to save you, perhaps I might think about it; but certainly I will not stir one pace from your side to save myself from any death.”
“It seems that I have got my answer,” said Tikal. “May none of you regret it to-night when you come to look down into the Pit of Waters. Well, time presses, and I have much to do before we meet again,”—and he turned to leave us.
Now, as he went, despair took hold of Maya. For a moment she struggled with it and with herself, then she cried:
“Come back, Tikal!”
He came, and stood before her in cold silence, and she spoke, addressing her husband in a slow voice:
“You are over-hasty; my answer is not yet spoken, husband. Tikal, I accept your offer. Prevent Nahua from giving testimony against us; destroy the evidences she holds, and set these men safe, with all that they may desire, on the further side of yonder mountain, and within six months I will become your wife.”
Now the señor and I stared at each other aghast.
“Are you mad?” he said, “or do you speak so in the hope of saving us?”