XVII
A SONG AND ITS SEQUEL
Narva's forbidding presence promised little in the way of cheer orwarmth of welcome to her wearied companions. The singular dwelling intowhich the latter were ushered recalled, at first glance, the gloomyabode of some medieval anchorite to whose theory of existence anythingapproaching luxury was to be shunned, rooted out, as an obstruction tothe soul's growth. Whether or not Narva's mode of living was actuallybased on these mystical considerations, her home, at least, in itslack of visible comforts, seemed the typical hermit's cell. Here wasneither superfluous ornament nor evidence of the slightest touch offeminine grace or care. The blackened walls of granite rose withuncompromising abruptness, unbroken by niche or shelf, to a ceilingwhose vague outlines were lost in darkness. A truss of straw was thrownin one corner of the apartment, and upon it was spread a rough woolencounterpane. Three flattened blocks of stone, placed at intervals alongthe walls, served as benches; in the center a rock-table, carefullysmoothed and large enough for a banquet fairly regal in its dimensions,rose four feet from the floor. Upon this table, with its suggestedpossibilities of entertainment, stood a large jug, curiously fashionedof a single crystal, within which faintly gleamed an opalescent liquid.There were also two stone platters, one containing heaped-up cubesof a white substance resembling bread, and the other certain broiledfish--they looked like fish--whose globular bodies and reddish-blueflesh aroused misgivings, if not a more decided feeling of repugnance,among those unfamiliar with subterranean bills of fare.
But the explorers were famished enough to attack anything. The dangersthey had escaped, the fatigue arising from prolonged exposure andunwonted exercise, the bracing air of the cave, would have correctedthe most fastidious taste and made even boot-leather palatable. ButNarva's fish, notwithstanding their sickly hue, were not to be classed,by any means, with boot-leather. After the first wave of disgust, eventhe suspicious Miranda scented a welcome repast in the dishes spreadbefore him, while the others were in this only too eager to follow hislead. Their hostess, aware of their hunger, gave a reassuring gesture ofinvitation.
"Eat!" she said solemnly; "it is for you."
They needed no second bidding. Scorning the absence of chairs andthe ordinary dishes and utensils that go with a meal, they fell toand, with the first mouthful, expressed approval by varying gruntsand exclamations. Even the fish was voted a delicacy of superlativeexcellence. In flavor it recalled the sweet succulence of rare tropicalfruit, like the cirimoya, with a soupcon of spice that gave it thefillip of a genuine culinary masterpiece. As for the bread, it was notbread at all, but some mysterious compound of flesh and vegetable, thenutritive qualities of which were eagerly explained and extolled by theravenous doctor.
Una, however, was denied participation in this unexpected and singularfeast. From the first Narva had shown a special interest in the girl;caused, doubtless, by the latter's early expression of confidence in heroffer to protect them. This interest, it now appeared, had a distinctpurpose in view, which Narva lost no time in carrying out. Satisfiedthat the others were provided with the entertainment they desired, shetook Una by the hand and led her to a distant corner of the apartment.
"Will you go with me?" she asked her in a whisper.
Una hesitated. To leave her uncle and the others, trusting herselfentirely to this mysterious being, was more than she had bargained for.Divining the cause of her irresolution, Narva spoke reassuringly.
"They are safe," she said. "We will come back to them."
Something in the older woman's manner won Una's confidence. She feltthat a way out of their difficulties was being offered her. Hope of astill greater result silenced her fears.
"Yes," she said.
Then, behind one of the stone benches, yielding to Narva's touch, a doorslowly opened, revealing a narrow passage upon which they entered.
Glancing hastily back, Una noticed that the door, a great block of stonerevolving with the utmost nicety in grooves made for the purpose, hadclosed behind them. She was thus separated from her companions and alonewith a singular being whose purpose in all this she was at a loss tofathom. Narva's trustworthiness had appealed to her, it is true, and shehad followed her leading when the others held back. But there was an airabout Narva, suggesting the occasional freaks of one whose wits are notof the steadiest, that might well cause anxiety among those temporarilyin her power. Just now, however, there was no sign of trouble, and Unarepressed any outward evidence of alarm she might feel. Narva, indeed,seemed to have lost the solemn dignity she had assumed hitherto, andbecame every moment more ingratiating, reassuring. Gently stroking Una'shand, she stopped in her hurried walk down the corridor and, throwingback the heavy veil obscuring her features, showed a face marked by thenobility and calm of age. Its serenity and kindliness strengthened Una'sconfidence.
"We will go back to them," said Narva; "but first we must see," sheadded enigmatically.
"Why have you brought me here?" asked Una.
"Something you will see. You will help us, and then I will help you. Iknew you were coming."
The explanation, if it could be called one, increased Una'smystification.
"You could know nothing of me. How could you know?" she persisted. "Howcan I help you?"
"Ah, Narva is very old," she replied, her long bony fingers passingthrough the masses of snow-white hair that fell to her shoulders, "andwith the old there is knowledge. Long time I lived with your people,far from here. All the years I keep the secret of this Kingdom of theCondor. No one knows--if they know they do not dare to come. Onlyone--he knows, he has come. And now, you have come. Why?"
The abrupt question was confusing. Una wondered how much she knew, howmuch she dared tell her. The inscrutable eyes fixed upon her revealednothing. Was it to learn her secret Narva had lured her away from theothers? The narrow gloomy passage where they stood was remote from theinhabited portion of the cave; the door to Narva's dwelling, now thatit was closed, was not distinguishable from the rest of the wall intowhich it fitted so admirably. Had Una tried, she could not have foundher way back. She was completely at Narva's mercy--but the old Indianhad shown only friendliness hitherto, it was reasonable to suppose thather proffer of assistance was genuine, since motive for treachery waslacking. Impulsively reaching this conclusion, Una answered Narva'squestion without reserve.
"I have come," she said, "because I am looking for one who is dear tome. I think he is lost in this cave."
"Why?" asked Narva, showing neither surprise nor incredulity.
"Once before he disappeared, and then he was lost here."
"When?"
"Three years ago. A man who was with him told me. But--he is not hisfriend. Perhaps it is not true."
"It is true."
"How do you know that?" asked Una eagerly.
"I know," she replied quietly, but with convincing emphasis.
"Then he is here! I am right. You know where he is. You will take me tohim!"
"Ah! Perhaps you will not go. You are a white woman; you will be afraidto leave your friends and go with me."
"I am not afraid."
"Perhaps this man you look for has changed. Perhaps he will not knowyou. And this other, his enemy, perhaps he is here. There will betrouble, danger."
"Take me to him!" demanded Una passionately. "If there is danger, Ishould be with him. I am not afraid. I trust you."
"That is good," said Narva. "Come!"
Una now became aware that the corridor down which they were slowlywalking widened out into a respectable thoroughfare at its furtherend, whence it abruptly turned and was merged in the main trail thathad brought them to Narva's dwelling. Thus, the latter, throughsome labyrinthine arrangement of passages, was entered at one placeand offered an exit in an entirely opposite direction, whence,by devious twists and turns, it came back to the first point ofapproach. To Una, at least, bewildered by the intricacies of cavetopography, this seemed the explanation of the course they werepursuing, although the mysterious
doubling of their tracks broughtlittle consolation--especially when she realized that her uncle andhis companions were lost in the center of a maze the clew to whichcompletely eluded her. Anxiety for their safety overrode, for themoment, every other consideration; she grasped Narva's arm with adetaining gesture, a half uttered question on her lips. Her appeal,however, was not answered. Like some ancient oracle, from which hasproceeded the final Pythian message, no further revelation was to begranted. In true sibylline fashion, with finger on lip and eyes set onsome object in the distance hidden from Una, Narva indicated that thetime for speech had passed and now it remained for them to carry outas expeditiously as possible, the design upon which they were settingforth. From her gesture and the stealthy caution with which sheadvanced, Una gathered that there were urgent reasons for maintaininga strict silence. They might be surrounded by hostile forces, theirdestination might be a secret one, or at least a knowledge of it mightinvolve danger to the man for whose preservation she firmly believedthey were engaged. Narva, in warning her of this danger, hinted thatwhatever they had to fear was in some way due to the presence of RaoulArthur in the cave. The enmity of the latter to David, moreover, wasfull of sinister possibilities, and the conviction that they were aboutto foil the evil thus threatened nerved Una to face anything.
Una would have felt a stronger confidence in their mission, a keenerenthusiasm, had Narva been more definite as to the identity of the manto whose rescue she believed they were hastening, or had she givensome hint of the kind of danger to which he was actually exposed. Butit was all so vague, she feared that some mistake had been made, amistake easily growing out of the fervid imagination that, any onecould see, quite controlled Narva's mind. While there was no shakingthe old sibyl's reticence, however, the calm determination with whichshe set about her task proved, in a measure, inspiring. Una might feelan occasional doubt as to the outcome of their venture, but this doubtfinally disappeared altogether before the faith, growing stronger withthe changing aspect of the scene through which they were passing, thatin some unlooked-for way she was about to attain the main object thathad brought them into this ancient home of a vanished race.
They had now entered a portion of the cave where the dim half-light towhich Una was accustomed turned, by comparison, almost to the light ofday. This light appeared to come from a fixed point directly in front ofthem. No central globe, or body of fire, to which this appearance mightbe traced was visible; but, in the far distance, where the light reachedits greatest intensity, over the top of a dark ridge of rock risingbefore them like the summit of a mountain, thin streamers of whiteradiance shot upward, rising and falling in the unequal flashes andsubsidences generated by an electric battery. This luminous appearance,however, was too stupendous in its effects to be attributable to amere electric battery. To Una's dazzled vision it rather resembled thefirst onrush of the morning sun, when the presence of that luminaryjust below the horizon is proclaimed by advancing rays of light. Here,however, an effect of greater motion was produced than in the steady andgradual illumination of the heavens heralding the coming of the sun.The sparkles and flashes neither grew nor shrank in intensity. If theywere produced by a central body corresponding to the sun that shone uponthe outside world, it was a stationary sun, fixed in some mysterious,invisible recess of the cave.
And now the outlines of the distant mountain top began to assume agreater definiteness than before. Objects just below this furthestsummit loomed up spectrally out of the shadows that had enveloped them;for the first time Una realized that they were facing, not a wall ofunbroken rock, such as had overwhelmed her at every side since leavingher companions in Narva's dwelling, but an assemblage of majesticforms suggesting, in their coherence and symmetrical arrangement, thetowers, arches, and ramparts of some ancient citadel. This building,or collection of buildings, from their position and commanding aspect,might well be taken as the center of the region it so fitly dominated.Upon it converged all the lines, furrows and intricate masses of wallscomposing, so far as they could be included in one comprehensive view,the architecture of the cave. Immediately above it, crowning the verysummit, arose a single tower, broad at the base, and tapering until itreached a sharp point just below the cave's jagged, overhanging roof.Behind this tower the light flashed and glowed so brilliantly the shaftof stone itself seemed to sparkle and transmit a radiance as if it werecomposed of some crystalline substance.
Moved by this fairy-like spectacle Una again implored Narva to tellher something of where they were going. What was this cave of wonders,that no man had ever heard of before, and into which they had stumbledby chance? What bygone secret of the earth was it connected with, whatpeople were these who lived in it as in a world apart from all otherworlds? Who was she, buried out of sight of all men, and yet talkingto Una in her native tongue, and seemingly so familiar with all thatconcerned her? Why had she been waiting for them, where was she takingthem? But to all Una's questions Narva vouchsafed no word of reply.Smiling to herself, she pointed in the direction of the light-crownedsummit before them and hastened on, descending now into a valley wherethey soon lost sight of the vision that had offered so delightful agoal to their wanderings. Narva's gesture, however, and the tendencyof the path they were taking assured Una that the distant palace--itssituation and noble architecture suggested nothing less than a palace,the regal abode of the ruler of all this realm of marvels--was theirreal destination, and it was left to her to imagine why Narva wasguiding her thither. But the physical difficulties of the path theyfollowed gave her scant opportunity for speculation. Chasms they hadto cross whose depths Una would have shunned had it not been for thepromise of some great achievement that would free them all from thedangers by which they were surrounded. In other places the path narrowedto a mere fissure between great walls of rock, and again it skirted theedge of a precipice that, in normal times, would have filled Una withhorror. Moreover, there were moments when she fancied she heard, fromthe darkness beneath them, the shouts of a hurrying throng of people--animpression that might well be true since she had abundant evidencealready that the cave was inhabited by a race whose number she had nomeans of knowing.
But this reminder of the presence of others in the cave besides her ownparty was more disturbing to Una than the physical obstacles and dangersimmediately facing her. These could at least be met and overcome--butabout an invisible multitude, their attitude toward them, their purposein apparently following them, there was an indefiniteness that wasaltogether disheartening. As a matter of fact, she had no doubt thesehidden cavemen were hostile; her previous experiences had filled herwith a vague dread in that respect. This dread, also, was sharpenedby the reflection that, in all probability, Raoul was among them;of his active enmity, linked in some mysterious manner with David'sdisappearance, she now felt certain. Una tried to gain some light onthe subject from Narva; but the latter either failed to hear the ominoussounds to which her attention was called, or she was too intent onher present mission to admit the consideration of other matters. Thisindifference, whether real or feigned, had a reassuring effect on Una.She perceived that if these invisible people, friendly or unfriendly,were connected with them, they would attract Narva's attention, while,if there was no connection--a conclusion suggested by the sibyl'sunruffled bearing--there was nothing to fear from them.
Having reached the end of the abrupt downward slope of the path theywere following, Una rejoiced to find herself on the level floor of avalley that, in the upper world, would be admired for its charm andrestfulness. There were neither flower-decked meadows, it is true, norbrook-fed woodland to diversify the scene. Subterranean botany, however,has its compensations for losses due to the perpetual absence of sunand rain. Evidently the light from the luminous mountain had in itsome life-giving, sustaining quality, for on every hand in this valleythere were luxuriant growths of delicately tinted flowers--or so theyappeared--whose scent, one imagined, filled the motionless atmosphere.Tall, graceful forms, resembling willows, clustered along the banksof a lit
tle stream flowing with the gentlest of murmurs through theirmidst. The flinty ground was carpeted with a pale lancet-leaved herbagethat might have been taken for grass were it not for the profusion ofsparkling crystals with which it was sprinkled. These crystals glowed invarying and sometimes iridescent colors, showing a depth and solidity ofsubstance decidedly out of keeping with a purely vegetable origin.
It was this gem-like appearance of what might have been taken elsewherefor richly flowering grasses that led Una to suspect the reality--judgedby the standards of the world with which she was familiar--of thissubterranean garden. A white flower, heavily streaked with crimson,from the heart of which long golden stamens were thrust in a droopingcluster, hung on its stalk conveniently near. Except for its coloring,and a square rather than spherical modeling of the calyx, it mighteasily pass for one of the lily family. To make sure Una plucked it.From the broken stem a tiny stream of water bubbled out, and the flowerin Una's hands seemed to lose at once the soft shimmer of light thathad played upon its petals only a moment before. Most extraordinary ofall was the weight of the flower. Suspended from its stalk, it seemedthe frailest, daintiest of objects; a blossom that the merest breezecould have tossed about at will. But Una found it as heavy as so muchmetal, or stone; and this, with the clinking together of its leavesas they were moved by her touch, revealed the startling characterof subterranean botany. She was disappointed at first to find thatthis was not, in the ordinary sense of the word, a flower at all; butregret was quickly followed by curiosity as to the actual nature ofthe strange growth she held in her hands. Its unusual weight beliedthe delicacy of its outward appearance; the fires that had clothedits leaves with living tints, in dying seemed to have left behind thepallor of ashes. Nevertheless, it retained a strange, subtle beauty,odorless, undefinable. It might be a rare kind of stalactite--exceptthat a stalactite had not its soft brilliancy--or a sheaf of gems, oneof the many that strewed this subterranean valley. Whatever it was, itreminded Una, however faintly, of the glories of the outer world--andshe cherished it for this more than for its own beauty. Narva, rousedfor the first time from the spell of her own thoughts, shook her head indisapproval of what Una had done. Evidently she questioned her right topluck the flower, for she motioned to her to throw it away.
"The Queen's garden!" she exclaimed in tones of rebuke.
As this was the first definite intimation of their whereabouts, Una wasquick to seize upon it. This mysterious queen, then, of whom Narva hadvaguely spoken before, was really mixed up in their present expedition.She recalled Narva's hint that, in some way, Una was to be of assistanceto her, and she wondered whether this meant that they were bringingrescue of some sort to the queen, a possibility of high adventure shewas far too young not to relish. A queen, moreover, who cultivatedjewels--or something very like them--in her garden was worthy the bestflowers of romance. At any rate, Una felt a new zest in the enterpriseshe was on and began to chafe at Narva's leisurely dignity.
"It is plenty of time," said the old Indian sternly, noting herimpatience. "Have care."
As she spoke she pointed straight ahead where the first direct raysfrom the mountain peaks flashed downward illuminating the massivebuilding, just below the tower-crowned summit that, at a distance, hadso completely won Una's admiration. Seen close at hand, this buildinggained in beauty. Most of the cave dwellings, like the one inhabitedby Narva, were hollowed out of the walls composing this undergroundworld. The palace, however, stood alone, surrounding a spacious courtin the center of which played a fountain whose jets of water reflected,in a sheaf of myriad diamonds, the light glancing athwart it. Thedazzling effect emphasized the architectural majesty of the buildingthus illuminated. This building was, for the most part, two stories inheight, ornamented by innumerable turrets, with a square central towerrising above an arched entrance, the iron-bound doors of which seemedstout enough to withstand a siege. It was built throughout of stone,of a deep yellow tint, vivid, glistening, unlike anything Una had seenin the cave. So radiant it seemed, so full of light, adorned with suchdelicate tracery wherever the design of the architect admitted the playof ornament, it might have been a fairy palace, each stone of which hadcome into place over night with the waving of a wand. Narva pointed toa heart-shaped tablet just above the arched entrance, upon which wascarved, in dark red stone, the figure of a condor, similar in design tothe one that graced the main gateway to the inhabited portion of thecave.
"It is very old," she said. "It is the palace of my people many hundredyears--ah! perhaps thousands--before the Spaniards drove them off theearth. Long ago, in those days, our kingdom was not in a cave. But here,always, was the secret palace of the zipa. Yes, we lived among themountains then, and this was our place of refuge when other Indians fromfar off came to plunder us. It was here that our first zipa was broughtfor safety. He was only a few weeks old then. Hunters, lost on a highmountain, had found him in the nest of a condor. How he came there noone has ever known. But his skin was perfectly white, not like ours; sothat he could not have been born from one of our race. Perhaps a god hadleft him for the condors to take care of--or perhaps it was a condor,flying far out of sight of the earth, who found him in some hidden placein the sky, and brought him down here to be the ruler of the earth. Buthere he was guarded, here he grew up. And when he became a man, andconquered the people who used to fight with us and destroy our cities,and rob us of our wealth, and make slaves of us, he founded this Empireof the Chibchas. And it was after that, when he was old and had not muchlonger to live, that he built this great palace, to be the secret homeof his children whenever their enemies became too strong for them. Andover the gate of the palace, where you see, he placed his birth-sign,the Sign of the Condor--the secret sign of this under-world and of allhis kingdom. But all of this was hundreds--ah! thousands--of years ago.And all those years this palace has stood and given protection to thechildren of that first zipa, he who was carried from the skies to bereared in the nest of a condor."
The fanciful story, the fabulous antiquity claimed for the palace beforeher, increased the sense of unreality and mystery filling Una's mindas she listened to Narva. The story itself was not unlike others ofthe kind, handed down from one generation to another, explaining theorigin of some ancient South American race. In the telling of it Narva,for the first time, forgot her reserve, and her simple eloquence, herapparent belief in the quaint old fable she was telling, added greatlyto its impressiveness. And there stood the great palace before her,with its flying condor guarding forever the descendants of that mythicalold zipa! Una was unable to go back in imagination to that primevalpast, especially as it had to do with a country and a people of whichshe knew nothing. But the tale itself, and the grace and beauty of thepalace about which it had been woven, reminded her of much that she hadheard and read in other than Indian mythology and literature. Pageantsfrom medieval legend, with their phantom castles in haunted forests,engaged her fancy as she listened. For the moment she half expected tosee a troop of Arthurian knights, intent upon some mystic quest, issueforth from the stately portal, bringing with them a flash of vividlight and movement that as yet the picture lacked. A zipa she had neverseen, had never heard of before--and even a condor filled a place inher imagination that was not much more real than that occupied by theroc, the giant bird of the Arabian tales. But neither Christian knightnor pagan zipa was here. The silence, now that Narva had finished hertale, was profound. The murmur of voices, distinctly heard a shorttime before, was lost in the distance. The apparent isolation of abuilding so rich in possibilities of usefulness, so well preservedarchitecturally, was its most inexplicable feature. Una was almostpersuaded that the palace before her was uninhabited, abandoned. If itbelonged, as Narva said, to the dim past of a vanished race, it stoodnow merely as a monument to forgotten greatness. Or--did it still serveas a refuge, a protection, to the descendants of that condor-born zipaof Narva's legend?
Then, suddenly, as Una was thinking of these ancient, far-off things,from one of the wings of the p
alace there rose the clear, high notesof a woman's voice in a melody not unlike the one Anitoo and his bandhad used for a marching song. But Anitoo's song had something ofmartial swing and vigor in it; this, although wild in spirit, permeatedby the chanting, wailing quality characteristic of primitive music,thrilled with strains of passionate tenderness unlike anything Una hadheard. The words of the song were not distinguishable, nor were theyneeded to convey the theme inspiring the invisible singer. The latterseemed to pass from joy to despair, rising again to a solemn pitch ofintensity that partook of the dignity and earnestness of religiousrhapsody. A pagan priest, presiding over ancient rites from which thefaithful expect a miracle, might thus have modulated the notes of hisincantation. As in all music of the kind, the emotion portrayed wassimple, unmixed with the shadings and intellectual complexities thatplay so important a part in modern song. The voice interpreting thisemotion showed no great degree of cultivation. Unskilled in the nicersubtleties of the vocal art, it depended upon a natural, unrestrainedsincerity, enriched by a birdlike clearness and resonance, for itseffects. Its plaintiveness, from the very first strains of the ringingmelody, appealed deeply to Una.
Narva, alive to the sympathetic response aroused in her companion by thesong, laid her hand gently upon Una's arm and drew her in the directionof the distant portion of the palace from whence, apparently, the notescame.
"Have care, say nothing!" she repeated impressively.
Una, still absorbed by the weird beauty of the scene and the strangelegends with which it was connected, scarcely noted the reiteratedwarning. Her own spirit kindled with friendly warmth for the singerwhose mingled joys and sorrows were so eloquently expressed. Shefollowed Narva almost unconsciously, eager, and yet half afraid to reachthe climax of their adventure; fearful, likewise, lest by some misstepor imprudence of theirs the spell of music should be broken.
No sign of life was visible in the great rambling palace that loomedhigh above them. The rows of lanceolated openings, that in the distanceappeared to be ordinary windows, upon a nearer view proved to beunglazed--or, if they were fitted with glass it was too thick toreveal to an outsider the interior of the palace. That some kind ofvitreous substance filled these openings was evident from the flashesof light reflected on their surface. Considering the antiquity of thebuilding, however, and the unknown methods and materials employed byits architect, it was more likely that the substance used for windowswas a crystal gathered, perhaps, from the queen's garden--the flowerfrom those alluring bushes that had first caught Una's attention--ratherthan manufactured glass that must have been unknown to these Andeancavemen. Even though the first zipa was the reputed offspring of starsor condors, it was not likely that in building his palace thousands ofyears ago--to quote Narva's estimate--he had been able to fit it withmodern improvements.
Owing to the thickness of these windows, therefore, it was impossibleto make out anything of the interior of the apartments of the palacefor which they were, apparently, intended to serve for light. A closeapproach, right under the palace walls, revealed nothing more thancould be seen at a distance; and as Narva avoided the great centralentrance, it appeared to Una that the mystery which so fascinated herwas to remain unsolved. An abrupt angle in the building, however,brought them suddenly within a little portico, extending between twomassive towers jutting out from the main structure, the existence ofwhich came as a complete surprise. On the side of this portico away fromthe palace clung a vine of pale green foliage, starred with white andcrimson flowers similar to those in the Queen's Garden, forming withits delicate festoons a cloistered way that had a subtle attractivenessamidst the imposing lines and columns of the huge edifice rising aboveit.
Here Narva and her companion paused, listening to the wild melody comingto them in a clear rush of sound. At the other end of the portico,leaning against the side of a long latticed window standing partly open,they could see the singer, her face turned to the apartment within,one arm encircling a lyre-shaped instrument the strings of which werelightly touched by the fingers of her right hand. The long white draperyin which she was clothed scarcely stirred with the movement from herplaying, while the upward poise of her head, with its masses of darkhair flowing downward over her shoulders, indicated the rapt intensitywith which she voiced the passion of her song. Apparently she was alone.The semi-obscurity of the apartment, however, at the entrance to whichshe stood, might have screened effectively from an outsider any one whowas within.
For the first few moments the appearance of Una and Narva at the farend of the portico was unnoticed. Then, as the music died away, thesinger turned and slowly approached them, her manner showing neithersurprise nor displeasure at their presence. As her glance fell upon themNarva made a low obeisance with a gesture evincing the most profoundself-abasement. In grace and majesty of bearing the being whom she thussaluted was worthy her homage. Tall and nobly proportioned, serene ofcountenance and of a faultless beauty, the deference of those about herseemed a natural tribute to her queenliness. That high rank belonged toher by right was suggested by a gold coronet encircling her head. Inthe center of this coronet gleamed an emerald of a size and purity rareeven to Bogota, the land of emeralds. An engaging womanliness, however,softened the dignity of her carriage, the luster of this emblem of herroyalty. To Narva, prostrate before her, she stretched out a hand withaffectionate eagerness, speaking to her, at the same time, in a tongueunintelligible to Una.
Saluting her again with the utmost reverence, the aged sibyl apparentlyanswered her questions. She then continued a voluble relation, themain purpose of which, as Una surmised, had to do with the findingof strangers in the cave. During this recital the being whom Narvaaddressed regarded Una intently, her gaze manifesting an interest shewas at no pains to conceal. Having heard Narva to the end she slowlyapproached Una and, to the latter's amazement, spoke to her in English.
"I am Sajipona," she said. "Some call me Queen of the Indians; I am aqueen; but, of my kingdom, this last home of my fathers is all that yourpeople have left me. Deep underground, hidden from all men, few thereare who know of its existence--and we guard the secret, if need be, withour lives. Against our law you have ventured here. Why have you come?"
To the abrupt inquiry Una had no answer ready. She hesitated; then,recalling her mission, she returned the gaze of her questioner with anawakened courage that went well with her maidenly beauty.
"I seek one who is dear to me," she replied.
"Why do you think he is here?" demanded Sajipona.
"Once, years ago, he was lost. It is said he was in this cave. Now hehas disappeared again--and we look for him here. I know nothing of yourlaw. You are good--I am sure of it--I beg of you to help me."
The appeal was impulsively made. A smile of sympathy lighted thefeatures of the queen, followed by a look of pain. Her cheeks paled, thehand, still clasping the lyre upon which she had been playing, trembled.Averting her gaze, she turned towards the window where she had firstbeen standing.
"Why should I help you?" she said. "You have broken our law."
"We didn't know of your law. All we want is to find him."
"If the man you seek is here of his own will, why should I help you findhim? He may wish to remain unknown."
"You do not know," said Una eagerly. "A strange thing happened before.It may be--how can I explain? It all sounds so improbable!--it may be heis not himself."
Sajipona laughed ironically.
"Strange indeed! And it will be hard for you to explain. How can he benot himself?"
"If he has forgotten--if he has lost his memory--"
"His memory? What riddles you talk! How does one lose one's memory? Andif he has lost his memory, can you bring it back to him then?" askedSajipona impatiently.
"I think he would remember me," said Una simply.
Sajipona's face showed her skepticism. "We shall see," she said.
"Then you know where he is? He is here?" cried Una.
But her question brought no direct response. Ins
tead, Sajipona turnedto the old Indian who, during this brief colloquy, had shown signs ofuneasiness. She now placed her fingers to her lips and pointed with herother hand to the apartment in the palace whence Sajipona had just madeher appearance.
"Yes," repeated the queen, "we shall see."
The three women turned to the open lattice window at the other end ofthe portico. Objects in the room beyond were at first indistinct, butas the eye became accustomed to the darkness the whole interior took onmore definite outlines. Una could see that the apartment was furnishedin barbaric luxury. Golden shields gleamed on the walls; hangings, richin color and material, were draped from the ceiling; massive cabinets,ornately carved and encrusted with gold, stood in distant alcoves of theroom. But all these curious evidences of a bygone art were barely noted,the attention being drawn to the one living occupant within. Lying ona sort of divan, at some distance from the window, was the figure,apparently, of a man. He was moving restlessly, as if awaking fromsleep. While Una looked, he rose and stood irresolutely in the centerof the room, one arm flung across his face to shield his eyes from thelight. Then, slowly walking to the window, as if looking for some one,his arm dropped to his side and, leaning across the lattice, he called:
"Sajipona!"
It was David.
The Gilded Man: A Romance of the Andes Page 18
