The hopelessness of his suit with Itlza was at once apparent to the astounded lover; a king stood between them, and, according to law—an established fiat, especially favorable to rulers to protect them in their family relations, particularly in the choice of a wife—death would be the consequence should he marry her, or even persist in meeting her clandestinely and be detected in it.
It would have been different had he made Itlza his affianced previous to her coming to the palace, even without the knowledge of the mother and brother; and possibly afterward had he anticipated the prince; but now his chance was gone; and, O, how he regretted the delay. No one, save themselves, knew that they were lovers, so closely had they guarded their secret; and since no pledge of troth had been exchanged, they must bide the result.
How could he give her up? The more he reflected on the matter, the greater became his distress of mind. He did not for a moment think of Itlza as a willing listener to the king's proposal to make her his queen, and he resolved to return to the conservatory so soon as his royal rival should depart from it, to condole with her, which he did, only to find her in the throes of an utter hopelessness. Their discovery of each other, so full of woebegoneness, has been noted.
The despairing maiden clung to her lover, pleadingly, as if he might have saved her from her impending fate. He held her to his breast in a close embrace, and if endearing words and passionate kisses—the first he had dared to bestow—could have effected a relief to her overwrought feelings, they must have found it in his.
"You must not be torn from me thus," he said, passionately, after she had explained, between sobs and moans, how determined the prince was in his purpose. "No, dear, sorrowing Laughing-eyes, death alone shall separate us."
"What, indeed, O Cacami, but death or submission is left for both of us," moaned the hapless maiden.
"You put it well and true, Itlza. I had not thought of death for you; I was thinking only of myself; but, alas! the result will be the same for both of us. I should not ask of you so great a sacrifice. No, my poor, lorne love, I must give you up."
"You shall not give me up, Cacami! Let it be mine to choose whether I will wear a crown, or cleave to you at the risk of death. It will be no fault of yours, then, if I should choose to die," she answered, determinedly.
"What can I say? If I alone were held responsible I could quickly choose; but you, poor darling, must suffer too."
"If you can suffer for the love of me, why not I for a like reason? Is my love less powerful than yours, that I am a woman? Cacami, you shall not choose to cast me off, even if it be to save my life. The choice, I pray you, shall be mine."