The Inca’s child was no barbarian; he was the heir of a civilization, unique indeed and partial, but genuine. No inconsiderable heritage of high heroic memories had fallen to his lot. And up to the hour when he fell into Don Ramon’s hands his education had been carried on with unremitting industry. It is true that the arts of reading and writing were unknown to him; and, unacquainted with figures, he could only perform a few simple calculations by means of knots on a cord. But instead of these more mechanical acquirements, he had the lessons of a passionate-hearted, enthusiastic mother, who filled his young imagination day by day with the spirit-stirring legends of his race. These were to him religion, literature, fairy tales, all in one. No Hebrew boy, “exiled from Zion’s rest,” could have yearned more fondly towards Jerusalem than he did towards Cuzco, the sacred city, where were the stately palaces of his kindred, the golden temple of the Sun, and the thrones of the beneficent Inca kings, his adored forefathers. No young Italian patriot could have learned to love his country with more passionate ardour than glowed in his heart for Tahuantin Suyu. It was by this name, meaning “the four provinces,” that he always called the empire of the Incas: Peru was a word unknown to him; it owed its origin to a blunder of the Spaniards. The strange sorrows that had fallen upon his young life—his kindred slain; his home in ruins; his mother setting herself free by death; he himself left desolate, a slave to the hated Spaniard—only served so to enamel those pictures of past glory, that the fragile vase upon which they were painted might indeed be shattered, but not a single line or hue of them could ever be effaced. Fray Fernando was not slow in resuming the conversation. He wished, if possible, to discover in what manner and degree his _protégé_ was connected with the royal family; and how he happened to be found in a place so remote as one of the little isles of verdure that dotted the great desert of the southern coast. “Are you, then, related to Huascar?” he asked. “All the Children of the Sun are one family,” answered the boy. “But we are not of Huayna Capac’s children. We are of Viracocha’s _ayllu_.”[5] “Viracocha? Who was he? I have never heard of him.” “Never heard of Viracocha the Fair-haired!” exclaimed the child in great astonishment. “Almost the greatest of the Incas! The whole world is filled with his renown. And,” he added proudly, after a moment’s pause, “I am his son!” “His renown has not reached Spain, however,” said Fray Fernando with a smile.