“Safe as the rocks of the Antis. It is the field of Quepaypan, which, you know, is a good league from the city. Few save our own people ever come near it; and for fear of any surprise, we have scouts stationed all around at convenient distances.” “You should by all means procure a horse. A man looks so brave and noble upon horseback.” “You are always right, nũsta. At present, however, that would be dangerous. We can learn to use our guns, and no Spaniard the wiser; but a troop of ‘los Indios’ on horseback would scarcely be an agreeable sight to my lord the Viceroy—at least in his present temper.” “The bloodthirsty Toledo? May he live to see many sights less agreeable.” “Ay, nũsta; but the time is not come. You remember the words of the wise Pacha-cutec—‘Impatience is the sign of a base mind.’” Here Sumac’s voice, low and soft as the cooing of a dove, broke in with the request,— “Wilt thou help me, sister? Thy fingers shape the delicate maize-ears more deftly than mine.” “Chachau, since you wish it, my Sumac. But why such haste with the work?” “I promised the flowers this evening to the nuns of Santa Clara.” “I am tired of the nuns of Santa Clara,” said Coyllur petulantly. “I think they would have us work for them like yanaconas.” “Nay, Coyllur, they are very good to us; they teach us the holy faith. Besides,” she added, in a somewhat lower tone, “you know how kind the lady abbess has been in persuading her kinsman the Viceroy to close his eyes for the present to—to what we are all sorry for.” “_I_ at least am not sorry that our grandfather will not profess what he does not believe. But give me that silver wire, and I will help you; though I had rather the flowers were for the Inca’s garden than for the shrine of Saint—I forget his name.—Viracocha, will you take the tinya, and play and sing for us while we work?” José complied; all the more readily because he had a very fine “yaravi” to sing, which he had just composed in praise of his own bright star. But his performance on this occasion was brought to a premature close by the entrance of Yupanqui, who was accompanied by two chosen friends of Inca race—Maricancha and Rimac. Yupanqui looked upon José with that peculiar tender fondness which the old sometimes feel for the young, in whom they see their own youth reproduced, and through whom they hope to realize their own lost hopes and ineffectual longings. He marked the budding attachment between his young favourite and his grandchild even before they had become aware of it themselves; and he watched its progress with interest and satisfaction.