“Of this city he saw little, however, for its inhabitants kept him a prisoner, only from time to time he was brought before their king and elders, who sat in a hall filled with images of dead men fashioned in gold, and there was questioned as to the country whence he came, the tribes that dwelt in it, and more especially of the white men who ruled the land.
“In that hall alone, so he said, there were more gold and precious stones than are to be found in all Mexico. When he had nothing more to tell them, the people wished to kill him, fearing lest he should escape and bring upon them the white men who loved gold. The end of it was that he did escape by the help of a woman, who guided him back towards the sea, though she never came there, for she died upon the road.
“Afterwards this man went to live in a little village near Palenque, where he also died, having revealed nothing of what he had seen, since he feared lest the vengeance of the People of the Heart should follow him. When he was dying, he told his son, who told his son, who told the tale to me. Señor, it has been the dream of my life to visit that city, and now at last I think that I have found the clue which will lead me to it.”
“Why do you want to visit it, Ignatio?”
“To understand that, señor, you must know my history.” And I told him of the failure of the great plot and the part that I had played in it, all of which I have already set out, also of the secret hopes and ambitions of my life.
“Señor,” I added, “though I am beaten I am not yet crushed, and I still desire to build up a great Indian empire. I see by your face that you think me foolish. You may be right or I may be right. I may be pursuing truths or dreams, I may be sane and a redeemer, or insane and a fool. What does it matter? I follow the light that runs before me; will-o’-the-wisp or star, it leads to one end, and for me it is the light that I am born to follow. If you believe nothing else, at least believe this, señor, that I do not seek my own good or advancement, but rather that of my people. At the worst, I am not a knave, I am only a fool.”
“But how will you help your cause by visiting this city, supposing it to exist, Ignatio?”
“Thus, señor: these people—among whom without doubt the old man of whom I have spoken, who is named Zibalbay, is a chief or king—are the true stock and head of all the Indian races, and when they learn my plans and whom I am, they will be glad to furnish me with means whereby I can bring them to their former empire.”
“And if they take another view of the matter, Ignatio?”
“Then I fail, that is all, and among so many failures one more will scarcely matter. I am like a swimmer who sees, or thinks that he sees, a single plank that may bear him to safety. Maybe he cannot reach that plank, or, if he reach it, maybe it will sink beneath his weight. At least, he has no other hope.