The murder of young Tupac Amaru deserves to be remembered, not because it was the most cruel of the misdeeds of the conquerors of Tahuantin Suyu, but because of the innocence of the victim, and because of the hopes that were buried in his grave. How, after that day’s tragedy, could the Indians continue to cherish in secret the fond belief that the true heir of Manco Capac reigned still in the wild forests of Vilca-pampa, and that one day he would issue thence in victorious might to recover the throne of his fathers? Yet hope is hard to kill. It may lie in seeming death, and be laid in the grave; but if inspired by love it will rise again, partaking of love’s immortality. There was no more an Inca. But not the less did the Indians whisper to each other, “The Inca will come again.” Only henceforward the restoration of the loved dynasty became not so much a political hope as an article of religious faith.[31] XV. The Golden City. “How princely are thy towers, How fair thy vales, thy hills how beautiful! The sun, who sheds on thee his parting smiles, Sees not in all his wide career a scene Lovelier, nor more exuberantly blest By bounteous earth and heaven. The very gales Of Eden waft not from the immortal bowers Odours to sense more exquisite than those Which breathing from thy groves and gardens now Recall in me such thoughts of bitterness. The time has been when happy was their lot Who had their birthright there; but happy now Are those who to thy bosom have gone home.” SOUTHEY. The voice of José’s white-haired guide mingled in the great wail that rose from the square of Cuzco. Then the old man bowed his head and wept, José also weeping with him. “Come home with me,” said the Indian noble at last, as the crowd began slowly to disperse. “We are kinsmen,” José answered, and told his name, then briefly recapitulated his pedigree. “I also am of Viracocha’s ayllu,” said the Indian. “My name is Yupanqui.[32] And here,” he added presently, “is my house.” For Yupanqui’s dwelling, like most of the palaces of the Inca nobility who resided at Cuzco, opened on the great square. José followed his conductor into a low, one-storied building, formed of massive blocks of stone fitted into each other with wonderful accuracy. The doorway, wide near the ground, sloped gradually inwards, the lintel being considerably narrower than the threshold. A kind of passage brought them to a court, into which many similar doors opened, each leading to a separate chamber. This arrangement was rendered necessary by the absence of windows.