"You do not doubt my sincerity, Mitla?" he questioned, slightly confused at having his own words applied to himself.
"No, I do not doubt your sincerity; at least, not your desire to be so—that would be ungenerous; yet I can not help feeling that your desire to give me pleasure causes you to say what your mind, not your heart, suggests." This was said, accompanied by an appealing look which the tzin could not fail to observe. He said, feelingly:
"I am very, very sorry that you feel so, for nothing that I can say will make you feel differently." These words were true, and yet not true. Doubting, as he did, the character of the sentiment which her presence ever inspired, honor still forbade the utterance of the declaration which would have made them untrue, yet the declaration might have been consistently made. It was doubt alone, then, which made them true.
"I am sure you speak truly, and that you will be generous in your thoughts, forgiving a feeling in me which is beyond my control," she said, giving him a look at once tristful and yearning.
"I shall not try to controvert your feelings, for they may be just," he answered, kindly. "But, Mitla, I must be about my business. Our stay must be very short on the mountains; the time allowed us for coming and returning will not admit of an hour's extension. However, I will try to find a little time in which to talk with you before we go away." Her answer to this was an approving smile; and the tzin turned to Tezcot and informed him as to the object of their mission, and the necessity of its hasty accomplishment. The hunter was quick to appreciate the situation, and immediately set about getting ready to accompany them to the hermit's cave.
Passing over the explanations which followed the party's arrival at the cavern, and the arrangements which led up to the situation as we left it at Tlacopan, except to say that Euetzin and Cacami learned with astonishment and pleasure the true character of the hermit, and rejoiced with Hualcoyotl in view of the prospective restoration to Tezcuco of her great general.
All saw the importance of Ix's presence, and as well that of the prince, at Tlacopan, and not a moment was lost in getting ready to leave the hermitage.
Ix was loth to part from his friend Tezcot, who had done him uncounted acts of kindness, and relieved many of his lonely hours with his presence. He conceived the idea of forming a bodyguard for himself, and proposed that his friend should be made its chief. The project was warmly seconded by the prince and tzin, and pressed so earnestly by all, that the hunter finally yielded, with the proviso, however, that his friends, the mountaineers, should be asked to form the guard. This was agreed to, which resulted in the acquiescence of the hunters, and their appearance with the army, as we have seen.
The friends left the hermitage with varied emotions, which we will not try to interpret. They went slowly down the side of the mountain into the long ravine, thence out upon a more cheerful lay of the ground, where they found the walking more to their liking. They were in no hurry to reach the hunter's home; for darkness, they decided, should cover their entrance to it.
A half hour after the arrival of the party at Tezcot's found Cacami on his way to the camp of the soldiers to inform them of the intended early departure for the valley on the morrow; and also to make a detail of men to be at the hunter's at an early hour in the morning, to bear the palanquin in which the hermit was to make the journey. At the same time Euetzin and Mitla were out for a quiet talk. They were just approaching the little knoll where their last meeting occurred some weeks before, and he was saying: