“We must get them together. Let me see,—ah, yes; the chinampa! We have not been there for a long time, and that will be an excuse for going to-morrow. You can bring the lord Hualpa, and I will take a minstrel, and have him sing, and tell stories of love and lovers.”
She stopped, and sighed, thinking, doubtless, how the ’tzin’s presence would add to the pleasure of the meeting. At that moment the curtain of the door was flung aside, and Nenetzin herself came in, looking vexed and pouting.
“Yesterday was too much for my sister,” said Tula, pleasantly. “I hope she is well again.”
“I slept poorly,” was the reply.
“If you are sick, we will send to the temples—”
“No, I hate the herb-dealers.”
“What ails you, Nenetzin?” asked Io’, irritated.
“Who would not be ailing, afflicted as I have been? One graceless fellow after another calling to see me, until I am out of patience!”
Io’ colored, and turned away.
“But what if they had news,” said Tula; “something from the strangers?”