Cacami returned from his home to the villa about noon the following day. Euetzin was expecting him, as he had a.s.sured the tzin that he would report the result of a conference with his father immediately, let the conclusion be what it might. When he came up to Euetzin, who had gone to the lower side of the park to meet him, it did not require words to communicate his decision. The glad confirmation of the tzin's wishes was seen on his radiant countenance.

"My friend is pleased, and I do not have to inquire the cause," said he, in greeting him. "I read upon your face, Cacami, that we are to be comrades in the fight for freedom."

"Yes, we are," returned Cacami. "This good right arm," he continued, raising it by way of emphasis, "I have pledged, through my father, to the cause of Tezcuco and her prince. Your proposition, that I should become your a.s.sistant in the work which you have undertaken was favorably considered, and I am here to join you."

"Your decision is gratifying. In it the cause which has become so dear to me has found a strong arm to labor in its defense, and I a worthy comrade. But come, you have traveled, and are, no doubt, hungry and thirsty. Refreshments are waiting."

As they were ascending the hill, through the park, Cacami inquired:

"Have you had any news from the palace of the prince, since your return?"

"What news might I expect? Hualcoyotl is not there."

"True, the prince is not there, but Itzalmo--is not that the name of the old man who was his tutor?"

"It is, but what of him? Your words remind me that I have been remiss; I should have gone to Itzalmo ere this," replied the tzin.

"That you could not have done, for Itzalmo is in prison."

The tzin stopped and looked at Cacami as if he did not comprehend, and said:

"In prison, did you say? And for what offense, pray?"

"For what offense I did not learn."

"Where and when did you hear of his imprisonment?"

"On the streets of Tezcuco, yesterday. Six days ago, 'tis said, the king's officer took him to Azcapozalco," answered Cacami.

"And he has not returned?"

"No, he is still in prison."

"I must learn more of this matter, immediately," returned the tzin thoughtfully.

They entered the house, where Cacami met with a kindly greeting from Teochma and Itlza.

After refreshments were served, Euetzin made known his purpose of going to Tezcuco to obtain further information relative to Itzalmo. He left Cacami to be entertained by Itlza, observing that she could show him the beauties of the park, and thus keep him from becoming lonesome.

O, thoughtless brother! Lonesome, indeed! Nothing could have delighted Cacami more than the prospect of a whole afternoon with Itlza.

Euetzin had been gone quite a while, and Itlza, as he had suggested, had taken Cacami over the ground which comprised the villa park, showing him the most interesting of its features, of which the family were justly proud. She had finally brought him to her favorite retreat, in the shade of an old oak tree, at the foot of which stood a rustic bench, and, a little way off from it, a beautiful flowing fountain, which added coolness to the spot, and made it especially inviting.

Itlza was seated on the bench beneath the tree, toying with a bunch of odorous flowers, while Cacami reclined on the ground, almost at her feet.

"You are fleet of tongue, O Cacami, and your voice is like the cooing of a dove. The words fall from your lips as readily as flowing water from a hillside spring. But the thoughts which fill your mind are hidden. Who but yourself may read them?" she was saying, provokingly, in answer to something he had said.

"Surely, Laughing-eyes, you can not think me capable of holding thoughts, which are not in accord with my words? I may be impulsive and hasty, but not deceitful," he answered, with an honest emphasis on his words.

It was clearly a case of love at first sight with Cacami, and his impulsiveness led him to show it plainly. Itlza was more discreet, and would not so easily surrender to the dictates of a smitten heart. She was, nevertheless, fast falling under the influence of the subtle little archer, though, woman-like, persisted in fighting it off. In answer to Cacami's expostulation, she said:

"I would not seem unkind, but would put a check upon your tongue. You are scarcely more than a stranger to me. Two days ago you did not know that such a person lived as I; and yet, in that short time, you are pleading to hear a song from the little love-bird which nestles in Itlza's heart. Know you not, O Cacami, that the little bird is chary, and may be easily frightened away?" she replied archly, but kindly.

"Your words are severe, Laughing-eyes, yet of them I may be deserving, for I have been impetuous; but I can not think my conduct should drive you from me, in that you are surely jesting. I am not a trifler, Itlza, and, believe me, never one spoke more sincerely. Only bid me hope, and I will be your silent slave."

We would not have the reader think that Cacami was foolish, for he was not. He was unquestionably stricken with that peculiar affection which, ever since the first man and woman were brought face to face, has held the loftiest minds, and brought under subjection the strongest wills, making slaves of all, willing or unwilling, to the object through the attraction of which the affection is produced, causing men of intelligence, not infrequently, to fall into ridicule. Still, recognizing the innateness of the thing, we look upon such conduct as a natural consequence.

Cacami's fault was in not restraining his impulsiveness. He read in the words which fell from Itlza's lips that she was not wholly indifferent to his wooing, and, as a last earnest, plead for a hope.

Itlza's reply was not very encouraging.

"To bid you hope might be to deceive you," she said. "No, you must not ask it of me. If the time should come when the little love-bird would sing its song for Cacami, he shall know it. Promise, then, to speak no more of love until you have permission, and Itlza will be your friend."

"A wish from you, O Laughing-eyes, is a command to me. I will do the best I can; but should I fail, it will be for love of you." He spoke pathetically, and Itlza's heart went out to him with a sudden impulse, and a more adroit wooer than he might have won there and then, but Cacami had promised, and the opportunity pa.s.sed unimproved.

"I have your promise, then?" asked the persistent Itlza.

"Yes," he answered, resignedly.

She laughed at his sober acquiescence and pathetic yes, and said:

"Your ready submission almost persuades me to believe you sincere. But, there, do not speak," she suddenly added, antic.i.p.ating him, as he looked up at her fondly, showing in his expression that he was about to put some thought into words. She placed her hand over his mouth, and continued: "I do believe you would violate your promise before it is cold upon your lips."

He put her hand away gently, and said:

"You shall not again have occasion to check me. Laughing-eyes shall learn that Cacami can hold his tongue."

Euetzin came back from Tezcuco toward evening, and found the twain still lingering under the oak tree near the fountain. The mother came from the house, too, and a half hour was pa.s.sed in listening to an account of his visit to the city and what it revealed, at the conclusion of which they went in for refreshments.

The day ended, and night followed, bringing the morning, when Euetzin, with his newly acquired friend and comrade, set out to continue the prosecution of his patriotic mission.

CHAPTER XIII.

Tenocht.i.tlan, later the city of Mexico, was founded by the primitive Mexicans (Aztecs), early in the fourteenth century, about two hundred years prior to the advent of the Spaniards on the Anahuac. The city was situated, originally, on a group of small islands in the southwestern portion of lake Tezcuco, nearly one league from the sh.o.r.e, and was, for more than a century, a very frail and peculiarly constructed place. Its houses were built chiefly of wood, reeds, and rushes, with the exception, perhaps, of the princ.i.p.al structures and _teacollis_ (temples), which were, doubtless, of sun-dried blocks of clay. Many of the houses, for want of s.p.a.ce, were built over the water, supported by driven piles, upright posts, and were approachable in many instances only by canoe. A canoe was therefore an indispensable possession to an inhabitant of the island city.

The absence of stone in the construction of buildings in the first century of the city's existence was, no doubt, attributable to the fact that it was reached by canoe, only, previous to the construction of causeways; after which followed a rapid transformation in its composition and appearance, until, at the time of the conquest, it had become a wonderful city of stone palaces and temples, with grand squares and broad avenues.

Notwithstanding Tenocht.i.tlan, at the time of which we write, was greatly inferior in its construction to the other large cities of the valley, it was a veritable beehive in the animation and density of its population.

It was the capital of a fierce and aggressive people, who were not only brave, but cunning, in their aggression, which led to their complete supremacy under the last Montezuma.

The question as to why the Aztecs chose so inconvenient a location on which to build their capital will naturally present itself to the mind of the reader. We have only s.p.a.ce to say the idea was of miraculous origin, the result of a priestly superst.i.tion.[8]