For a moment she stood there, her wonderful eyes fixed upon me, compelling, seeming almost to speak. Then lifting her arms, she held them towards me. A madness raced through my veins. My temples throbbed. I longed to throw myself into those outstretched arms, to hold her close, to pour passionate words of love into her ear, to crush her lips with kisses. But hundreds of feet of abyss lay between us; we were as far apart as though we had been on separate planets. Her lips moved. Her words--soft, musical, imploring, floated to me, though they were unintelligible to my ears. I suffered, as I stood there, overwhelmed with love, with longing for that wondrous being calling to me, beckoning to me from across that awful chasm. And then, with a little gesture of despair, with a contemptuous toss of her head, she stepped forward, stepped over the verge of that terrible chasm! I was too horrified, too overcome, too numbed with the horror of it, to utter a sound. Then my horror changed to wonder, to incredulous, inexpressible amazement. The girl had not fallen, had not plunged downward to a fearful death. She was floating through air, coming towards me. Could it be possible, could it be real? She was walking upon that beam of light! Was I dreaming? Had I gone mad? Was it a delusion, a vision of my brain? The next moment she was beside me, and as I seized her in my arms, and felt the pressure of her warm palpitating body, and pressed kisses upon her unresisting lips, and her soft arms stole about my neck, I knew that it was no vision, no dream. She, at least, was very real. CHAPTER VIII The Hidden City VERY gently she drew herself from my embrace and spoke; to my surprise and delight, using a dialect of Zutugil, and fervently I thanked heaven--and Fray José--that I had learned that tongue. “My lord has been long in coming,” she said. “Long have we awaited my lord. For many Tuns and Katuns, aye, even for many Baktuns, have the maidens of Kinich Ahau awaited thy coming at the Bridge of Light.” Bridge of Light! At her words comprehension dawned upon me. Strange I had not thought of it before--in Zutugil, light and life were synonymous, the same word served for both--the bridge of life of the prophecy was the bridge of light the girl had crossed! “But to me, Itza, has come the honor of welcoming my lord,” she continued, “and blessed by the gods am I. And”--she dropped her eyes and blushed--“I am glad to find you good to look upon, my lord. I had thought to see my lord ugly--even with the savage face and great teeth of the images, and at times I feared and thought perchance my lord might even suck my blood or devour me, as Kinchi Haman says the gods are wont to do. But my lord is kind and gentle and he honors and blesses me with caresses, and”--her golden skin flushed rosily and her eyelids drooped--“and, the caresses of my lord are very sweet.”...