Returning late one afternoon from a reconnaissance to the southward, Cristoval stopped to inquire for the prince. He entered the patio, rapped upon the half-open door, and, without waiting for an answer, pushed aside the hangings and entered,—to find himself confronted by half-a-dozen young women. He recognized them at once by their costume as attendants at the palace. The sudden apparition of his mailed figure threw consternation among the damsels, nearly equalled by his own at their half-suppressed scream. Stammering an apology, part Spanish, part Quichua, he bowed and was hastily retiring when Toparca called from his couch:— "Wait, Viracocha Cristoval! Do not go before I have made you known to my sister, the Ñusta Rava. Tarry a moment, I pray you." The princess had risen, terrified by the formidable man in steel, whose face she could scarcely discern beneath his lifted visor. To her unaccustomed eyes he was huge and monstrous—a direful, enigmatic being from another world, of a race prodigious in destructiveness, unassailable and irresistible as gods, murderous as fiends. The sound of his approach as he moved toward her, the clank and harsh rustle of his accoutrements, struck dread to her heart. Cristoval perceived her trembling. He halted, hurriedly unlatched and removed his helmet. "I trust the Ñusta Rava will forgive me for appearing in my harness," he said in Quichua made lame by his embarrassment, and bowing gravely; "but I had no thought of finding any one here but my Lord Toparca. With her gracious permission I will retire." "No, no!" said Toparca. "Let me present you:—Rava, this is the Viracocha Cristoval, who, as I have told thee, rescued me from death." Cristoval made a low obeisance, but the princess recoiled from him in undisguised horror. Toparca saw the movement and expression, and said quickly: "Rava, thou needst have no fear. I beg thou wilt know the Viracocha Cristoval as my friend." "Thy friend, Toparca?" she exclaimed, her low voice trembling. "Dost think that I can look upon one of these as the friend of any of our race? The blood-marks have not yet vanished from the square." Toparca raised himself in anxiety to exonerate his benefactor. "But, my sister," he said, hurriedly, "the Viracocha Cristoval had no part in that."