Yes, yes, common property! laughed Don Christobal.
There is nothing to laugh about, Christobal, said Aunt Agnes drily.
And the duenna repeated in a low voice, No, no, nothing to laugh about.
The Marquis was determined to have his laugh.
Let us mourn the poor children, he said, groaning. Cut off from the affection of their parents at so early an age! How terrible!
Christobal, can you tell me what became of Amelia de Vargas and Marie Cristina de Orellana?
Yes, what became of them? urged Irene.
There we are! the old story! I expected it! exclaimed the Marquis.
You might speak seriously! You knew Amelia de Vargas....
A charming girl the sweetest smile in the city! That was twenty years ago.... How time flies! Yes, she disappeared with a poor cousin.
I heard the other day that it was a toreador, interjected Maria-Teresa. They revive that old story every ten years, at the time of the Interaymi.
She disappeared outside the bull-ring, explained Aunt Agnes. There was a fight in the crowd, and she was separated from her parents. Nobody ever saw her again. Afterwards, some people remembered catching sight of her surrounded by a group of Indians. She died at their hands, walled up alive.
What a gorgeous imagination crowds have! But the fact remains that that poor cousin of hers disappeared about the same time.
So you are pleased to say, Christobal. But what of Maria Cristina de Orellana?
Oh, that was another matter a very sad case. She was out for a walk with her father round the Cuzco, and went into one of the caves, never to reappear. She lost her way in the old subterranean passages, of course. The government had all the entrances blocked up after that.
And since then, commented Aunt Agnes, her poor father has been a madman. For the past ten years, he has haunted the Cuzco ruins, calling in vain to his daughter. He, at all events, will not believe that she was not carried off by the Indians.
But you yourself say he is mad.
He lost his reason when he acquired the certitude that she had perished in their temple. A few days before she vanished, Maria-Cristina mysteriously received a very old and very heavy gold bracelet. That bracelet had a center plaque representing the sun....
My dear Agnes, you know that in this country jewelers stick the sun in wherever and whenever they can.
That bracelet was the real one the same one that was sent to Amelia.
Are you not exaggerating, Agnes? Really, really! And with stories like these running about, they expect poor historians to be accurate! I hope you are not taking notes of all this, Mr. Montgomery.
I am exaggerating nothing, retorted Aunt Agnes obstinately. It was the real Golden Sun bracelet.... Every ten years since Atahualpa, the last Inca king, was burned alive by Pizarro, the Inca priests have sent it to a Spanish girl they had chosen to be the Bride of the Sun. And every one of them has been walled up alive.... I remember that poor Orellana girl laughing and joking about the Golden Sun bracelet! The whole town knew about it.
The whole town always does have a pretty lively imagination at the time of the Interaymi, insisted the Marquis. He turned to Mr. Montgomery. You have no idea, my dear sir, how hard it is for our Society to get away from all these weird legends.
Legends are not things to be despised in research work, disagreed Uncle Francis. For my part, I am delighted to have found a country where they are still so living.
At this moment a servant came in with a small parcel on a silver tray.
A registered package, señorita, he said. Will the señorita sign here?
Maria-Teresa, having signed, was turning the box over in her fingers.
It is from Cajamarca, she remarked. Who from, I wonder? I know nobody there. Will you excuse me?
The young girl cut the string, broke the seals and opened the little wooden box.
A bracelet! she exclaimed, and laughed a little nervously. What an extraordinary coincidence! Why, it is the Golden Sun bracelet! It is, really! The bracelet of the Bride of the Sun!
Every person in the room had risen, with the exception of the two old ladies, who sat as if stunned. All eyes were turned on the heavy bracelet in darkened old gold, with its sun-adorned center plaque on which the rays seemed blurred out by the dust of centuries.
Well, that is funny! laughed Maria-Teresa.
Of course! exclaimed the Marquis, whose voice had changed a little. Evidently a joke by Alonso de Cuelar. You refused him, my dear, and he has invented rather a pretty revenge. His little vengeance on the Bride of the Sun.... All the young men of the town call you that because you refuse to marry.... Well, what are we looking so blue about over there? Surely, Agnes, you are not going to make yourself ill over a harmless joke like this?
Maria-Teresa was showing the bracelet to Uncle Francis and Dick.
Father! she exclaimed. I think I shall keep it! Tell Don Alonso I shall wear it as a token of friendship.... It really is a beauty! What do you think of it, Mr. Montgomery?
It seems to me at least three or four hundred years old.
Pieces like that are still occasionally found in excavations round royal tombs, but they are rare, said the Marquis. I am not surprised Don Alonso had to go to Cajamarca for that one.
Where is Cajamarca? asked Dick.
Cajamarca, said the savant, horrified at his nephews ignorance, is the Caxamarxa of the Incas, their second capital in Pizarros day....
And the city where their last king was burned at the stake! groaned Aunt Agnes.
They rushed to her side, for she was on the point of fainting and had to be carried to her room. The old duenna followed them, as white as her lace, and crossing herself tremulously.
IV
On the day after his arrival, Uncle Francis was solemnly and officially received by the Geographical Society of Lima, the fine archeological, statistical and hydrographical work of which keenly interested him. With so much scientific enthusiasm did he express himself, that he conquered all hearts. By far the proudest and happiest man present, however, was Don Christobal, basking in the reflected glory of his distinguished guest. As they were all leaving after the ceremonyMaria-Teresa wearing her bracelet despite the protests of her aunt and the duennathe Marquis met Don Alonso de Cuelar.
Why, Cuelar, he exclaimed, I thought you were at Cajamarca!
Don Alonso opened his eyes in surprise, evidently not understanding.
Come, come, Cuelar, you may confess. I shall not be angry. Both Maria-Teresa and I agree that your little revenge was a very neat one.
My revenge?
Of course! The bracelet!
What bracelet?
At this moment Maria-Teresa and Dick joined the group. Maria-Teresa, seeing her father laughing as he talked, felt quite sure that the mystery of the bracelet had already been cleared up.
Thank you ever so much, she said, holding out the slim hand adorned by the heavy bracelet You see, I wear it as a token of friendship.
But I should never have permitted myself such a liberty, protested the young man, looking in amazement from one to the other.
Are you serious? It really was not you?
No! But what does it all mean? And what a peculiar bracelet.
Do you not recognize it? laughed Maria-Teresa, still unconvinced. It is, apparently, the Golden Sun bracelet which the Indian priests always send to the Bride of the Sun at the Interaymi.... And as you, I understand, were the originator of my nickname, I naturally supposed that, in spite of everything you heard, you bore no malice to the Virgin of the Sun.