"No: he hath said naught of thee to me, and from his silence I am sure. I know not what is in his mind. He is as tender as he used to be in earlier days—he parted from me in anger, Cristoval, months ago, in the Amarucancha, when he learned I had become a Christian. His anger hath gone, but he regardeth me always with strange sadness and gloom. I fear it is because of our love." Cristoval partly raised himself. "Rava, dost think he will forbid our marriage?" "Oh, my own, I do not know! By the law of Tavantinsuyu I can be married only to one of royal blood. Manco holdeth the laws as sacred as the ancient rites. In these perilous times he would dread their violation as like to provoke the wrath of Inti. I know not!" she moaned, pressing her cheek to his. "I know not, Cristoval!" The cavalier’s arm tightened in its grasp. "And if he should forbid," he whispered, sharply, "if he should, then we must fly again. Wilt go with me?" "Thou knowest, my own! But whither? The uttermost parts of the empire would be searched." "Once on the coast—" said Cristoval. "We should never reach it!" she replied, pressing him closer. "We should never reach it, my love—but, we can die together." They said little more, but clung together as if the morrow’s parting would be final. Minutes passed, when Cristoval felt her shudder as she raised her head in a sudden recollection. "Cristoval, oh, Cristoval!" she faltered, "Father Valverde threatened thee!" "Ah!" muttered the cavalier, gloomily. "Thou didst guess his meaning? I hoped it had escaped thee. The words were Latin." "I know. I have had time to learn much since Xilcala. But, oh, my heart, dost think he will excommunicate thee?" Cristoval hesitated. "If he should," he said, with courage, "thou’lt pray for me, child. I’ll have no fear that the Virgin will not hear thee." "It is dreadful, dreadful!" she murmured, sobbing. "Nay: think not of it. It were more dreadful, far, to have obeyed his command to leave thee." And in Cristoval’s mind an eternity in hell was naught in comparison. The certainty itself would not have forced him to relinquish her. It seemed but a moment before her trusted maid came to whisper that the sky was growing light. A sweet, bitter instant of parting, and Cristoval was alone. Before the sun had touched his tent the cavalier heard preparations for departure,—hastening steps, the rattle of camp gear, and soon, the marching of the escort and the commands of its officers as it formed on the parade in front of the Inca’s quarters. Accompanied by Paullo, Rava went first to Pedro’s tent to say farewell. "God bless thy sweet life!" said Pedro, weakly, as he pressed her hand. "I shall miss thy visits sorely—and another will miss them more. But thy going is sudden—doth Cristoval know?" Rava colored, replying, "I am on my way to him now, Pedro. Shall I take him a message?"