For the Spanish commander the Inca never acquired a liking. It was impossible for him to regard Pizarro otherwise than as his arch-enemy and author of his misfortunes. As a soldier he exonerated the other officers in a degree, reflecting that they were subordinates, and attributing to their leader the absolute authority over them which he himself wielded over his troops. So upon Pizarro he placed the entire weight of responsibility. He was repelled, however, by the cold austerity of the taciturn leader, who possessed little of the graciousness of his brother Hernando and had no wish for the good will of the man he had so mortally injured. To Cristoval the tour as commander of the guard at the palace was always welcome. On one of these occasions, having some need to see the Inca, he was directed by one of the attendants to the garden, and taking one of the side-paths which wound through the shrubbery, had gone but a few yards when a turn brought him face to face with the Ñusta Rava, followed by one of her handmaidens. He bowed, stepped aside, and waited, toque in hand, for her to pass, fully expecting to encounter the indignant scorn which he had seen last in her handsome eyes. He found it, however, quite absent, and in its stead one of some confusion, not unmixed with fear. To his surprise she halted and stood looking up to him with a timidity that made him uncomfortably conscious of the warlike attire which inspired her dread. He bowed again, and in response to his look of kindly inquiry she began:— "Viracocha,—my words some days ago were spoken in ignorance of all my obligations. My brother, the Inca, hath told me of your many acts of generosity to him in his misfortune. Can you forget my injustice and accept my gratitude?" "The Ñusta Rava’s words are forgotten," replied Cristoval; "and I can only thank her for the graciousness of those just spoken. I beg she will believe the sincerity of my sympathy for her august brother and herself." "Ah, I do believe it, Viracocha Cristoval! It hath been proven by your friendship." "You may count upon all that lieth within its power," said Cristoval, earnestly. "I would it could undo what hath been done; but if it can ever serve you, now or in the future, be sure of it." He had spoken with the gentleness with which he would have addressed a child—in fact, he looked upon her as little more—and the voice of the unhappy princess broke when she tried to murmur her acknowledgment. As she turned away she extended her hand. Cristoval pressed it for an instant, and she passed on. He continued his walk meditatively. Presently he came to a bench and sat down, studying the gravel at his feet.