"Why, my greetings to him as a noble. Doth the _llautu_ become him?—No doubt of it!—Poor boy, poor boy!" "But he is hurt less than thou!" said Rava. "The wound in his shoulder? Ah! But he hath another below it—and harder to cure." Again came Rava’s color, and she took her leave somewhat in haste. The parting with Cristoval taxed her to the extreme, and only Paullo’s presence saved her from breaking down. As it was, her distress and the cavalier’s depression were apparent to the youth, and he gently and wisely hastened her departure, but resolving to accompany her a part of the way himself. Rava had never confided to her younger brother her attachment for Cristoval; and he, though staggered by the revelation of it on the night of the rescue, had thus far refrained from questioning; but on the journey with Paullo beside her in her _hamaca_, she confessed, with an account, sufficiently heartfelt, of the cavalier’s golden qualities. The youth, already predisposed toward his brother’s gallant ally, listened with sympathy, promising to aid the lovers to the full in case of the Inca’s opposition. He gave what hope he could, though this was slight, and Rava pursued her journey with heavy heart. To Cristoval the succeeding days were of torment. The fighting was incessant, and the Inca rarely at his quarters, though he sent frequently to ask for the two Spaniards, and to express his good wishes. Opportunity for an interview, feverishly awaited by the cavalier, was not offered, and he tossed in an agony of suspense. At last his attendant informed him that Manco was in council with his generals. Directing the old man to report their departure, Cristoval struggled with his impatience. It was late when the orderly announced that the council was dissolved. "Give me thine aid, Tocache," said Cristoval. "I will rise." "But, my Lord Cristoval, you will do yourself injury," deprecated the old man. "Whither would you go?" "To the Inca’s tent. Come! Help me to my feet and to dress." "My lord—" "Nay, Tocache; I must go. I am strong enough, man, and thou shalt lend me a shoulder to lean upon." Tocache demurred earnestly, but shortly Cristoval was clad and sandalled, and with the other’s support, left his tent. The Inca was standing with Paullo and the Villac Vmu when the sentinel announced his visitor, and he turned in surprise when the cavalier, uncertain in his steps and quite pale, entered the tent and saluted. "Thou, my Lord Cristoval!" exclaimed Manco, advancing. "Thou ’rt welcome, my friend, though I fear, imprudent. What hath brought thee at this hour?—but sit. Thou ’rt weak—too weak to have ventured." He led the visitor to a chair. Having greeted the Auqui and the priest and seen the Inca seated, Cristoval sank into it. Manco observed him with evident interest while waiting to hear his errand, which proved a difficult one to begin.