There was Kari, it is true, who I knew loved me in his fashion, but between him and me there was a great gulf fixed, not only of race and faith, but of something now which I did not wholly understand.  In London he had been my servant and his ends were my ends; on our wandering he had been my companion in great adventures.  But now I knew that other interests and desires had taken a hold of him, and that he trod a road of which I could not see the goal; and no longer thought much of me save when what I did or desired to do came between him and that goal.

Therefore Quilla alone was left to me, and Quilla was about to be taken away.  Oh!  I wearied of this strange land with its snowclad mountains and rich valleys, its hordes of dark-skinned people with large eyes, smiling faces, and secret hearts; its great cities, temples, and palaces filled with useless gold and silver; its brilliant sunshine and rushing rivers, its gods, kings, and policies.  They were alien to me, every one of them, and if Quilla were taken away and I were left quite alone, then I thought that it would be well to die.

Something moved behind a palm trunk of the avenue in which I walked, and not knowing whether it were beast or man, I laid my hand upon my sword which I still wore, although I had taken off the armour.  Before I could draw it my wrist was grasped and a soft voice whispered in my ear: 

“Fear nothing; it is I—­Quilla.”

Quilla it was, wrapped in a long hooded cloak such as the peasant women wear in the cold country, for she threw back the hood and a beam of starlight fell upon her face.

“Hearken!” she said.  “It is dangerous to both of us, but I have come to bid you farewell.”

“Farewell!  I feared it would be thus, but why so soon, Quilla?”

“For this reason, Love and Lord.  I have seen my father the King, and made my report to him of the matter with which I was sent to deal among the Yuncas.  It pleased him, and since his mood was gracious, I opened my heart to him and told him that no longer did I wish to be given in marriage to Urco, who will soon put on the Inca fringe, for, as you know, it is to him that I am promised!”

“What did he answer, Quilla?”

“He answered:  ’This means, Daughter, that you have met some other man to whom you do wish to be given in marriage.  I will not ask his name, since if I knew it it would be my duty to kill him, however high and noble he might be.’”

“Then he guesses, Quilla?”

“I think he guesses; I think that already some have whispered in his ear, but he does not wish to listen who desires to remain deaf and blind.”

“Did he say no more, Quilla?”