Although Cristoval could not share the Inca’s mistrust of Pizarro’s faith, he was profoundly impressed by his words of farewell, spoken with such firm conviction. They saddened him despite his confidence in his commander, and as he crossed the court his steps lagged while he pondered the possibility of remaining in Caxamalca. His deliberation was ended by the trumpets of his troop sounding in the plaza. It was too late now, at any rate, and he hurried on. He was arrested by hearing his name called timidly, and turning, saw one of the Princess Rava’s maidens hastening toward him. "Viracocha," she said, "my mistress sendeth greeting, and prayeth a few words." "Most gladly," replied Cristoval. "Wilt lead me to her?" He followed her to the garden, and a few paces brought them to the princess. She rose as they approached, and Cristoval regarded her with new interest. He noted with sympathy the traces of care and grief, wondering at the heightened womanliness they had produced, and suddenly recognizing in her that rare nature whose gentlest and fairest attributes are perfected by sorrow. Cristoval had not known many good women in his adventurous career, but he had discovered this quality with increased reverence for womankind. He observed it now in this girl of a strange and new-found race, and thought to himself, "Well, God save them, they are all sisters, whatever their blood—and the burden of sorrow worked by men’s misdeeds falleth always most heavily upon them!" As he drew near he was struck more than ever by her beauty, which had impressed him at first by its warmth and exuberance. Now, softened and chastened by sadness, the fire and pride which had once shone in her dark eyes had given way to a gentle pathos and appeal which touched his kindly heart. As he bent over the extended hand he renewed to himself the vow he had made to her brother a short while before. "Viracocha Cristoval," she said, with hesitation, "I am sure that you will pardon my sending for you. I have just learned that you are going away." "For a short journey, Ñusta Rava." "I pray it may be a safe one," she answered. "I will delay you only a moment. I would ask if you can tell me aught of the fate in store for my brother, the Inca." She looked up to him with eyes deepening with anxiety, and faltered, "He will say nothing, but I can see his sadness, which hath grown upon him with every day of deferred hope since the payment of his ransom. Hath he cause for this? Do you know, Viracocha Cristoval?" "I know nothing, Ñusta Rava, to cause him apprehension. On the contrary, General Pizarro hath renewed his promise to give him freedom, and, we trust, in a very few days. I have told him this, but he rejecteth the offered hope. He saith he hath been forewarned of pending evil. I know not how." "Alas! Said he so?" moaned the princess, her eyes filling. "Then what I have been told is true! Ah, my unhappy brother!" and she sank sobbing upon the bench.