Then her companion replied in the language of those of Hayti, which was perfectly understood in Cuba: “I cannot be thy husband; I will be thy brother.” “Why not? Who are you?” “I am from far, far beyond the sea. I come from Castile. With many others, I arrived, some months ago, at Hayti, and knowing that this, your isle, had not been visited by Christians, we desired to visit it, but were shipwrecked in the fearful tempest of last night and I was about to perish, when thy hand seized me amid the waves and brought me to the shore.” “And why do you not wish to be my husband?” “Because I am a priest and my god, who is the only god, orders his priests not to marry; he orders us to preach love. I come to preach it here, but not the love of the world,” added the Spaniard, sighing. “This cannot be; it is not true,” replied the island woman, with vigor, “remain here with me in my hut, and we will be the rulers of the island and our children will be heirs of all.” “I will be thy brother,” replied the missionary. And the Indian woman left, weeping. In the way she met Zekom, who fixed his terrible yellow glance upon her. “Comest to my hut, Starei?” he asked her. “Never,” she answered firm and brave. “We will be the rulers of all the islands of the seas and our children will be gods on earth, because we are children of the gods; the Gulf begot you in a pearlshell; the glowing Tropic begot me in a reef of gold and coral.” Starei paused; she was upon the summit of a rock, from which the whole coast was visible. “Look,” continued Zekom, “this will be our kingdom.” And before the fascinated eye of the daughter of the Gulf there was spread out a surprising panorama. In the midst of an emerald prairie, a _cu_ or _teocalli_ reared its high pyramid of gold, which shed its light around, even to the distant horizon. Over that gleaming plain were prostrated innumerable people with fear depicted on their faces. Genii, clad in marvelous garments, discharged upon these people, innumerable flaming arrows, the touch of which caused death. And upon the summit of the _cu_, she stood erect, as on a pedestal, more beautiful than the sun of springtime. The daughter of the Gulf remained long in silent ecstasy. “Come, Starei,” murmured Zekom in her ear, “tomorrow I await thee in my hut.” Starei departed thinking, dreaming. When the new day dawned, she saw the Spaniard, hidden in the forest, kneeling, with his eyes turned heavenward. At seeing him, the Indian maiden felt all her love rekindled; she threw herself, anew, upon him and clasping him within her arms, repeated: “Love me; love me, man of the cold land. I will adore thy god, who cannot curse us because we fulfil his law, the law of life. Come to my nuptial hut; I will be thy slave; we will pray together and I will be as humble and as cowardly as thou; but love me as I love you.” “I will be thy brother,” replied the missionary, pale with emotion. “Cursed art thou!” said Starei, and fled.