Many of the inhabitants had fled to the south. The exodus to Mexico was in full tide. This migration caused the mysterious race, the Toltecs or the Mayas, to leave their mounds and earthworks, their canals and busy centers, their cities and civilization, to puzzle the antiquarian in later ages. The earth still moaned and sighed under the impulse of subterranean fire, while the surface froze stiff in the accumulation of waters and low temperature. Man, ever the creature of circumstance, was still panic-stricken, oppressed by dismal forebodings, all his settled faiths rudely shaken, and he an easy prey to cunning and unscrupulous design. Setos flattered himself that he managed the situation very cleverly when he said to every one whom he met: “It is rumored that our Grand Servitor intends to marry. Traditional law and custom forbid his remaining in supreme control more than a year without giving promise of succession.” To which his auditor invariably gave tongue with speculation as upon whom his choice could fall. “Property and descent are traced through the female side; therefore, he should espouse Ildiko,” said the high-priest Imos. “It is better that pure Atlantian blood should be continued in power.” Flattering things were said to, and of, Ildiko, until her silly head was in a whirl, and she began to take on grand airs of importance. She snubbed Alcamayn unmercifully, not because she really disliked him, but—to be perverse, especially when her woman’s wit discovered that Rahula cherished hopes of supplanting her in her father’s affection. Like many a child since, she had no intention of cheering her father’s declining years; nor was she unselfish enough to allow any one else to do so. She would marry, of course, and would place herself to the best possible advantage, thanks to her father’s influence and position; but gratitude to him or to any one else was entirely foreign to her thoughts. She secretly hated Rahula, because the latter had been like a mother to her; and it gave her keen delight to thwart Rahula’s scheme to marry her to Alcamayn. She was not only dazzled by the prospect of occupying Iaqua, but she knew that this would disappoint and hurt a woman who had unwittingly aroused an unwarranted but common phase of jealousy. As is often the case, Yermah, the most interested man of them all, was the last to hear the gossip. At first he took no notice. But one day Imos asked him pointedly: “Wilt thou comply with the demands of the people?” “If thou wilt name thy wish, I shall answer thee truly,” responded Yermah. It was in the Temple of the Sun, near the noon hour, and the audience chamber was crowded, Yermah presiding. “If thou art to be the head of this commonwealth, a helpmeet becomes thy station. Ildiko, daughter of Setos, thy councilor, is of pure blood and comely. Her heirs would be acceptable as future rulers.”