“From the beautiful face of my love,
They call her Coyllur.
It was by reason of her beauty
A harmonious name.
Like the moon in its splendor
Is her bright forehead,
When it shines in brilliancy
In the highest heaven.”
From" Ollantȃ," an Ancient Inca Drama.
COYLLUR'S grief for her sister was poignant. The girls were tenderly attached to each other, and had never since infancy been separated for a single day.
Sumac's sorrow bound them only more closely together; and during her long illness Coyllur had waited on her with the most assiduous affection. She was in consequence little able to bear the severe fasts and strict seclusion which the Peruvian customs imposed upon mourners; and erelong old Yupanqui began to look with keen apprehension on her drooping form—dreading, not without reason, lest the last joy and solace of his declining years should be taken from him. Viracocha's alarm was not less than his.
Both welcomed the gentle authority with which Dona Beatriz Coya insisted on removing her niece to her own more cheerful dwelling. For the Inca buildings, admirable as they were for "simplicity, symmetry, solidity," and wonderfully fitted to resist the ravages of time and the shocks of earthquakes, were rather dull places of abode for ladies.
It was new life to Coyllur to welcome the flood of sunshine through the strange luxury of windows; or, seated in the pleasant balcony, to contemplate at her ease the never-ending marvels of the square below. There the stately church processions wound along with all their glittering show; there the Spanish soldiers mustered in shining armor; and, best of all, there rode the splendid, haughty Spanish cavaliers, managing their noble steeds with consummate ease and grace, not quite unconscious of the dark eyes that were watching them with interest. Moreover, Coyllur nu͂sta had a pretty sleeping-chamber in her aunt's house, which boasted a window also. It was pleasant, in the delicious tropical nights, to lie waking on a couch draped with dainty stuffs from Spain, and to listen the while to sweet music—more scientific and harmonious than that of the ruder instruments of her native land—from the guitar attuned by a skilful hand to the melodies of Spain.
Had such reached the ear of Viracocha, they would have moved him to indignant sorrow. Better far for both had he laid Sumac's warning to heart and acted upon it; but sentiments of honor, which ruled his soul as absolutely as that of any "preux chevalier" of the Old World, utterly forbade his claiming the prize he longed for until he had won it by some deed of signal merit. Nor would Yupanqui, in all probability, much as he loved him, have allowed his suit if preferred too soon.
While awaiting the opportunity for this, he bent all his energies to the task of making himself worthy of Coyllur. The grand-daughter of the great Huayna Capac stood very near that golden throne, which, though it existed in imagination only, was about the most real thing in earth or heaven to Jose Viracocha.
He studied diligently, learning "the Humanities," as taught in Europe, from a Dominican monk, and the more mysterious and difficult science of the Quipus from an aged Indian, who had been a Quipu-comayoc in the days of the Incas. He procured one of the rare and costly maps of the period, which, full of blunders as it was, yet gave him a better idea of the world he lived in than he had before. Lastly, he became a more accomplished marksman with the Spaniards' own formidable weapon than many of the Spaniards themselves, and learned to compete successfully with the best of them in fencing and cane-playing.
All this time he had not forgotten Fray Fernando. Not a day passed in which the man who for more than seven years had been to him as a father was not present to his thoughts. Warm and grateful affection, not unmixed with reverential compassion for sorrows vaguely guessed, gathered around his image. Yet not the less did Viracocha belong to his own people and to Coyllur. His place and his work were with these, not with the Spaniards.
It may seem strange that he did not try to communicate with Fray Fernando by letter, since he could write very well; but the idea of writing a letter was so foreign to all his habits and associations, that it never occurred to him. And had he thought of it, whither was he to send the letter when written Even if the monk's present address had been known to him, only half of the difficulty would have been obviated; for under the Spanish government no regular system of posts had replaced the admirable and efficient chasquis of the Incas.
Shortly after Coyllur's departure to the house of her aunt, Viracocha left Cuzco on a mysterious errand. The Spaniards were informed he was going to visit his friends and kinsfolk at Nasca. And not even amongst themselves did the Indians speak freely of his objects or destination. Only the initiated knew that he was to pass in disguise up and down the country, to ascertain the real state of the minds of his people, and to reawaken slumbering hopes of the restoration of the Incas. He had also to give signs and pass-words, to collect and transmit tidings, and to arrange secret meetings; but all these things were shrouded in the greatest possible mystery.
He may have had something both to ascertain and to command on the subject of the hoards of gold and silver which were buried by the Indians at the conquest, to be disinterred whenever a prince of their own race should require them, and not till then. But whatever might be doubtful about Viracocha's mission, one thing at least was certain,—the young envoy went forth taking his life in his hand.
Ere he left Cuzco, he paid a farewell visit at the mansion of Data Beatriz Coya., And here, on entering the low and sloping doorway which formed part of the original Inca building—the ground-floor of the present mansion—he encountered his rival, Don Francisco Solis, who was just passing out. They exchanged a cold and haughty salutation; each regarding the other with cordial hatred. Viracocha saw the Spanish knight vault lightly into the saddle of his noble steed, held for him at the door by a mulatto page, and for the hundredth time envied him his mastery over the proud and beautiful creature. Then turning, he sought the apartment where Coyllur was to be found; and as fortune favored him, she was alone.
His lips at last unsealed by the approaching separation, and the consciousness that he was about to hazard all for the cause dearest to the hearts of both, he said a thousand things in the soft musical "lengua del Inca," which would not bear translation. The hour was rapturous, but all too brief, and bounded by that terrible parting. Already he had risen from his place at her feet, and received the pretty Spanish "Vaya con Dios," which she added to the Quechua "Paccaricama," when his eye rested on a pair of perfumed Spanish leather gloves, embroidered with seedling pearls, lying beside the guitar, her aunt's recent gift. Instinct revealed the donor: he saw in them the homage of his rival, and the countenance of Viracocha fell.
Coyllur noticed the change, and said, not without confusion, "They are pretty, Viracocha. He would leave them;—but I do not value them.”
“They are not worthy to touch the pure hands of my nu͂sta," said Viracocha, with a scornful glance at the dainty trifles. "No Child of the Sun is ever adorned with pearls, since they cannot be obtained without risk of life." (A beautiful trait, recorded by Garcilaso de la Vega of his Inca forefathers.)
But Coyllur thought not of the old Incas, her forefathers—she thought only of the young Inca standing before her, whose looks were far more eloquent than words.
“I care nothing for such Spanish trumpery," she said, as, taking the gloves, she flung them from the open window, over the balcony, down into the square beneath.
Viracocha's countenance softened—brightened into restful assurance. "It is well," he answered. "Now I go. Will my nu͂sta give me a token—a flower to keep for her sake?”
And selecting, from a vase which lay before her on the table, a rich crimson tintin, or passion-flower, Coyllur placed it in the hand of Viracocha, who kissed it and laid it in his bosom. So they parted.