“Well,” said Don Cornelio, who had followed him, “do you still believe that you saw the spouse of your god Tlaloc?”
“I believe what my fathers have taught me to believe,” replied Costal, in a tone of discouragement. “I believe that the descendant of the Caciques of Tehuantepec is not destined to restore the ancient glories of his race. Tlaloc, who dwells here, has forbidden it.”
And saying this the Zapoteque relapsed into silence, and walked on with an air of gloomy abstraction that seemed to forbid all further conversation on the subject of his mythological creed.
Chapter Eighty One.
Two Happy Hearts.
We have arrived at the final scene of our drama. The shores of the Lake Ostuta, which in so short a space of time had witnessed so many stirring events, are once more to relapse into their gloomy and mournful silence.
Already Don Cornelio and his two companions have disappeared from the spot, and taken the road for Oajaca.
The funeral cortège is moving off towards the hacienda of San Carlos—the Indians who carry the bier marching in solemn silence. On that bier two corpses are laid side by side—the Spaniard Don Fernando de Lacarra by the side of his youthful wife.