“Discontent!”
“O ’tzin, to follow you and win your praise has been my greatest happiness; but as yet I have done nothing by myself. I pray you, give me liberty to go where I please, if only for a day.”
“Where would you go?”
“Where so many have tried and failed,—over the wall, into the palace.”
There was a long silence, during which the supplicant looked on the floor, and the master at him.
“I think I understand you,” the latter at length said. “To-morrow I will give you answer. Go now.”
Hualpa touched the floor with his palm, and left the chamber. The ’tzin remained thoughtful, motionless. An hour passed.
“Over the wall, into the palace!” he said, musingly. “Not for country, not for glory,—for Nenetzin. Alas, poor lad! From his life she has taken the life. Over the wall into the—Sun. To-morrow comes swiftly; good or ill, the gifts it brings are from the gods. Patience!”
And upon the step he spread his mantle, and slept, muttering, “Over the wall, into the palace, and she has not called him! Poor lad!”