CHAPTER XII.
IN THE INTERVAL OF THE BATTLE—LOVE.
The chinampa, at its anchorage, swung lightly, like an Indian cradle pendulous in the air. Over it stooped the night, its wings of darkness brilliant with the plumage of stars. The fire in the city kindled by Cortes still fitfully reddened the horizon in that direction,—a direful answer to those who, remembering the sweetness of peace in the beautiful valley, prayed for its return with the morning.
Yeteve, in the hammock, had lulled herself into the sleep of dreams; while, in the canoe, Hualpa and the oarsmen slept the sleep of the warrior and laborer,—the sleep too deep for dreams. Only Tula and the ’tzin kept vigils.
Just outside the canopy, in sight of the meridian stars, and where the night winds came sighing through the thicket of flowers, a petate had been spread for them; and now she listened, while he, lying at length, his head in her lap, talked of the sorrowful time that had befallen.
He told her of the mantas, and their destruction; of how Hualpa had made way to the presence of Nenetzin, and how she had saved his life; and as the narrative went on, the listener’s head drooped low over the speaker’s face, and there were sighs and tears which might have been apportioned between the lost sister and the unhappy lover; he told of the attack upon the palace, and of the fall of Iztlil’, and how, when the victory was won, Malinche flung the gods from the temple, and so terrified the companies that they fled.
“Then, O Tula, my hopes fell down. A people without gods, broken in spirit, and with duty divided between two kings, are but grass to be trodden. And Io’,—so young, so brave, so faithful—”
He paused, and there was a long silence, devoted to the prince’s memory. Then he resumed,—
“In looking out over the lake, you may have noticed that the city has been girdled with men in canoes,—an army, indeed, unaffected by the awful spectacle of the overthrow of the gods. I brought them up, and in their places sent the companies that had failed me. So, as the sun went down, I was able to pour fresh thousands upon Malinche. How I rejoiced to see them pass the wall with Hualpa, and grapple with the strangers! All my hopes came back again. That the enemy fought feebly was not a fancy. Watching, wounds, battle, and care have wrought upon them. They are wasting away. A little longer,—two days,—a day even,—patience, sweetheart, patience!”
There was silence again,—the golden silence of lovers, under the stars, hand-in-hand, dreaming.
The ’tzin broke the spell to say, in lower tones and with longer intervals,—