At this moment, Juan, as he bent over her, caught sight of the jewels which the Indian maiden had placed upon her head and neck, and among others, beheld the star of pearls which had gained for the daughter of Montezuma the name of Zelahualla, or the Lady of the Star, and the silver crucifix.
"Good heaven!" he cried, "do you wear her jewels, and yet ask me who she is?"
Magdalena started to her feet, and both turning together, they beheld the Indian princess, shrinking in the shadow of the room, behind Befo, who seemed to consider her an old friend, her arms crossed upon her breast, her head drooping, and her whole attitude and appearance indicative of a spirit entirely crushed and broken.
"Zelahualla!" cried Juan, with a voice of delight; and rushing towards her, he folded her in his arms, and strove to draw her towards his sister. "Why didst thou not speak to me, Zelahualla? Why dost thou turn from me, Zelahualla?"
The maiden sobbed, and strove to disengage herself from his embrace, saying,
"There is no Zelahualla now—The bright lady of the east is Zelahualla. Juan and the bright lady shall go. Why should Juan think there are two?"
In these broken expressions, Magdalena, had they not been in an unknown tongue, would have traced the workings of jealous and wounded affection. They filled Juan with surprise.
"What is this you say to me, Zelahualla?" he cried, "and what do you mean? Did not Zelahualla promise she would love my sister?"
"She did," replied the princess, without abating her grief: "she will love Juan's sister, and any one that Juan loves; and she has brought the bright lady to Juan, and she has given her her jewels, that Juan may love her more, and forget Zelahualla,—and the cross of his God, too, that he may not be sorry."
"Alas, Zelahualla, what evil-eye has struck thee? Dost thou think I deceive thee? Wilt thou not believe this is my sister?"