The damsel replied with the only words in her power, but the best she could have used, had she been acquainted with the whole speech of Castile. She looked sadly but firmly into Magdalena's face, and murmured softly,
"Juan Lelma"—
The accent was imperfect and false, but the sounds were music to Magdalena. She clasped the young barbarian again in her arms, but her caresses were only responded to by tears and sobs, which seemed to increase in proportion to her own raptures. But Magdalena was too wild with hope to think of the sorrows of her friend. She saw that the Indian held in her hand, two long and capacious mantles of a plain stuff, which, she knew, were to veil them from evil eyes, while they crept to the cell of her brother. But the maiden checked her impetuosity. She removed the trinkets from her head and person, and again offered them to the Christian; and persisted to do so, though still most gently and humbly, until Magdalena, thinking this might be some important ceremony, a proof perhaps of friendship offered and received, and perceiving, what was more influential still, that it was necessary to hasten the proceedings of her visitor, consented to receive them. She yielded to her importunities, and the Indian girl clasped around her ankles, arms, and neck, and twisted in her hair, all the jewels that had decorated her own person, besides hanging round her neck the silver cross and rosary,—Magdalena's own gift to Juan,—which she received with rapture, not doubting that he had sent it to her as a token and a full warrant to submit herself to the guidance of the young infidel. This accomplished, she assisted Magdalena to secure the larger mantle about her figure, and wrapped herself in the other. Then beckoning the Christian to follow, and signing to her to preserve silence, she led the way from the chamber.
CHAPTER X.
A short passage through which they stole, darkly, for it was not lighted, conducted them to a chamber, where the guide paused a moment, as if in doubt and fear. A strong light beamed through the curtained door. They listened for a time, until hearing no one stir within, the Indian maiden pulled the curtain timidly aside, and then beckoned Magdalena to follow her. It was a spacious apartment, richly tapestried, and lighted by many such masked torches as Magdalena had seen in her own chamber. The hangings were even continued over the ceiling, so that it resembled a pavilion rather than the sleeping apartment of a king,—for such it was. In the centre was suspended a magnificent canopy, wrought with feathers, overhanging a couch blazing with gold, and bedecked with the richest spoils of the parrot and flamingo, with little pedestals both at the head and foot, on which incense was burning before golden idols. Upon this lay sleeping the Indian lady, whom Magdalena had so often seen during the two first weeks of her durance; and the infant slept clasping her neck. Magdalena doubted no longer that she beheld the queen of the young monarch. But she crept softly after her guide, and was soon buried again in darkness. After many turnings and windings, which made her fancy the palace was a great labyrinth, she suddenly found herself conducted into the open air, by a door exceedingly narrow, and concealed by a mass of trailing vines. But secret as this entrance appeared, it was not unguarded. A tall savage with a spear, started up from the bushes, as if to dispute their right of egress. But a word from his companion, low as the whisper of a breeze, removed his opposition. He flung himself upon the earth, as if to his divinity, and thus remained, until the maidens had passed.
It was by this time midsummer—for so long a period had elapsed since the departure from Tezcuco; but it was the season of the rains, and the chill winds from the lake penetrated Magdalena to the heart. The sky was overcast, the grass loaded with moisture, and every gust shook down a shower from the trees.
It was very dark, and she knew not well to what quarter she was bending her steps. But she could see a line of fires running as it seemed across the lake, from a point in the city to the right hand, and lost in the distance or obscurity of the left. This was, in fact, the northern causeway, or dike of Tepejacac, the nearest point of which was scarce a mile distant from the garden. It was occupied by the troops of Sandoval, who had extended his approach already within the limits of the water suburb. Two or three of his brigantines were also perceived anchored near to the calzada,—at least, their lanterns were seen shining from their prows.
While Magdalena was yet stealing along after her guide, her eyes fixed upon this line of fires, she heard suddenly a great tumult begin among them, in which the yells of men were faintly distinguished amid the crash of fire-arms and artillery. Shocked and frighted as she was, at being thus made a witness, though afar, of the terrors of human wrath, she soon began to look upon the conflict as of good omen for herself. It would certainly be a more attractive spectacle to any wandering infidels in the garden than might be furnished by the obscure figures of herself and companion.
Apparently the Indian maiden thought so too; for she increased her pace, and instead of skulking as before, among green-arched and shadowy alleys, she walked boldly along in a broad exposed path, that led directly to a corner of the palace. But from this very corner they saw rushing a tumultuous throng of barbarians, some of whom ran directly towards them, though the course of others was in another direction.