It was mid-afternoon, and quiet reigned in and about the mountaineer's home. Tezcot was still on the mountain, where he had gone in the morning, presumably to hunt. Hualcoyotl, though still very weak from privation and the effects of the distressing ordeal through which he had passed the previous day, was enjoying, in undisturbed seclusion, a peacefulness of mind he had not experienced since his wanderings began. Mitla and Oxie were passing a leisure hour in the inviting shade of a large cypress tree, which stood a short distance from the house. To this spot they often went to while away their unoccupied time in chatting, and, if industriously inclined, to fashion some article for the adornment of the person or home. Mitla, on this occasion, was engaged in arranging a piece of feather-work, while Oxie, less diligent, lazily disposed herself on the warm, dry sward near by. The happiness of innocent girlhood was enjoyed by both these maidens, for no disturbing influence had, up to this time, come to mar the rustic simplicity of their lives. The passion of love, which sooner or later stirs the heart of youth, was yet unknown to them. Oxie was saying: "I think the prince is very handsome, sister, don't you?" She spoke with shyness, as if the expression involved a thought to which she ought not give utterance. Mitla looked up with no little surprise and said, inquiringly: "When did your eyes open to the thought that men are sometimes handsome, Oxie?" "My eyes have long been open to that which is attractive, Mitla. Would you have me close them now, that the object is a man?" she replied, with some show of impatience. "Not so, sister; but coming from you, the words sounded oddly. It seems only yesterday that you were a child. Your question tells me you are one no longer. But to answer you: The prince is fine looking, yet does not impress me as being admirable. Under more favorable circumstances he would, no doubt, be quite handsome." "It is when he speaks that the beauty of his countenance is seen," said Oxie with more courage, which Mitla's answer had imparted. "His eyes are so bright, they fairly dazzle one. When he spoke to you this morning at breakfast I could not help admiring him. It surely was not wrong, sister?" "I can not say if it was wrong or not; yet, Oxie, I would not encourage such thoughts; they might wound your heart," replied Mitla, not yet having realized that older hearts than Oxie's were subject to impressions that often wound. "Why do you say that, sister?" asked Oxie, somewhat curiously. "Why should it wound my heart to think well of the prince's looks?" "Do you know what such thoughts lead to, Oxie?" rejoined Mitla, soberly. "I can not say that I do; but surely not to anything serious?" still curious.