The liberty which the original William Tell sought to achieve was not political, but a victory over his own lower nature—a battle which the men and women of Tlamco fought out in every phase. “The water-holding capacity of the nerve-cells is much impaired,” said the chief shaman to his assistants, when giving directions for the night. “Nervous irritability follows. Sleep will be light and infrequent. Watch beside him. At every third marking let him sip liberally from the ambero lens. Between times, give him drink from the purpuro flagon.” In company with Akaza, he left Iaqua. It was as the chief shaman had predicted. Orondo failed to find refreshment in troubled sleep, so that the gray, foggy morning found him correspondingly wearied and depressed. Symptoms of pleuro-pneumonia were clearly established, and for three days he had a hard fight for life. Finally, when well enough to dress himself, he resolutely put on the same clothes he had used such care in selecting for his memorable visit to Kerœcia. It tried him severely to reinvest himself with them, but this was in keeping with his stern resolution to crush out useless regret. He wisely concluded that the easiest way out of it was to accustom himself to the same routine as before. He must not yield to such weakness as to shrink from inanimate things which were associated with her memory. Some carefully pressed blossoms of flax, fragile, delicate, little blue-cups, dedicated in thought to his love, were the only mementos he kept. These he hid away in an ivory dice-box given him by Ben Hu Barabe on taking leave. Orondo had managed to listen to the words of greeting and farewell from Kerœcia, and had responded thereto manfully. What the effort cost him may be inferred from the fact that he kept his room closely for the week following, refusing to see any one save the tamanes who served him. When he came again among his fellows, there was a stern, set look on his face, which was accentuated by the sunken eyes and sharpened cheek-bones, but there was no alteration in his manner of life. He began preparation for immediate departure. Yermah lived in a rose-colored world of his own creation. He made pretty speeches to imaginary women, and never even in sleep lost the consciousness of Kerœcia’s presence. In his audience chamber during the day, he granted requests for her. His decisions were all for her benefit, and the directions for various public works were delivered as he fondly imagined he would do if she were present. Several times in affixing his signature to documents he came near to writing her name. Yermah was singularly absent-minded, with all his amiability and politeness. He went among his pets with the air of a lover, and was entirely oblivious to the screech of the parrots and monkeys in and around the stables. He got on famously with Cibolo; and if the horse had understood him, he would have made a clean breast of the situation.