“Yes.”
Again he shrugged his shoulders.
“My name, then, is Quetzal’. Now, what is yours?”
“Tecetl.”
“Well, then, Tecetl, let me undeceive you. In the first place, I am not Quetzal’, or any god. I am a man, as your father there was. My name is Orteguilla; and for the time I am page to the great king Montezuma. And before long, if I live, and get out of this place, as I most devoutly pray, I will be a soldier. In the next place you are a girl, and soon will be a woman. You have been cheated of life. By God’s help, I will take you out of this. Do you understand me?”
“No; unless men and gods are the same.”
“Heaven forbid!” He crossed himself fervently. “Do you not know what men are?”
“All my knowledge of things is from the pictures on the walls, and what else you see here.”
“Jesu Christo!” he cried, in open astonishment. “And did the good man never tell you of the world outside,—of its creation, and its millions upon millions of people?”
“No.”