It is a beautiful evening, an hour after the night-shades have swept away the last gleam of day. The moon's golden-hued disc is beaming refulgently down upon the glowing face of Anahuac. The unruffled foliage of shrub and tree is overcast with a silvern tinge, the reflection of Luna's mellow light on Nature's inimitable green, while, like groups of twinkling stars from afar, are seen in the distance the sacred fires which light up every temple's summit, and which are never permitted to go out. At such an hour, in which inanimate Nature, superbly robed and serenely smiling, wholly unresponsive to the sorrow which saddens her animate sister, as represented in the grief-stricken inmates of the villa home, we are privileged, as visitors, to stroll in the direction of the old oak tree, under which, in the past, the now mourning Itlza has found her chief pleasure in idle moments. As we approach the spot the first object to attract our attention is the flowerlike appearance of the beautiful fountain. We pause for a moment to view with delight the graceful turn and fall of its translucent waters, which resemble in the moon's soft rays a great white lily. In the excitement of our admiration we are led to repeat, mentally: "Into the moonlight, whiter than snow, Beautiful, flower-like, ceaseless thy flow. Glorious fountain----!" What sound is that which breaks in upon our reflection, scarcely louder than a murmur, rising in gentle undulations above the ripple of the fountain's flow as it falls into the effervescing pool below? "My heart is sad--very, very sad, and were it not for your safe return, O Cacami, desolation would, indeed, overwhelm me." It was Itlza's voice, low and sorrowful, addressing her lover, who had improved the first favorable moment, after the army became settled in Tezcuco, to visit the villa, where he found Teochma prostrated with grief, and Itlza very sad, though supported by the expectation of an early visit from him. "Despair not, O Laughing-eyes; Euetzin may yet find favor with the gods. He is not dead, or his body would have been found upon the battle field." "It were better, Cacami, if he were dead; for, oh, what a fate awaits him, if he is a prisoner!" she replied, sorrowfully. "Let us not think of that, but rather hope against such a fate, and for a little while rejoice that we are once more brought together." "I do rejoice, Cacami, in your preservation, and that I have you with me again; but how can I forget, for one moment, my poor, unfortunate brother?" "Do not forget him, Laughing-eyes, but be cheered by the hope that he is not lost." "I will try, and you will help me by recounting of yourself. How do you rank in this hour of our people's triumph?" she questioned, with a supreme effort at rallying from her dejection. "I have no particular rank as yet, Laughing-eyes, more than that of one of the prince's chief attendants. I stood with him through both battles, and we have come to be very good friends."