CHAPTER VI.
THE CHINAMPA.
Between Tula, the child of Tecalco, and Nenetzin, daughter and child ofAcatlan, there existed a sisterly affection. The same sports had engagedthem, and they had been, and yet were, inseparable. Their mothers,themselves friends, encouraged the intimacy; and so their past lives hadvanished, like two summer clouds borne away by a soft south wind.
The evening after Iztlil's overture of marriage was deepening over lakeTezcuco; the breeze became murmurous and like a breath, and all theheavens filled with starlight. Cloudless must be the morrow to such anight!
So thought the princess Tula. Won by the beauty of the evening, she hadflown from the city to her _chinampa_, which was lying anchored in aquarter of the lake east of the causeway to Tepejaca, beyond the noiseof the town, and where no sound less agreeable than the plash of lightwaves could disturb her dreams.
A retreat more delightful would be a task for fancy. The artisan whoknitted the timbers of the _chinampa_ had doubtless been a lover of theluxuriant, and built as only a lover can build. The waves of the lakehad not been overlooked in his plan; he had measured their height, andthe depth and width of their troughs, when the weather was calm and thewater gentle. So he knew both what rocking they would make, and whatrocking would be pleasantest to a delicate soul; for, as there were suchsouls, there were also such artisans in Tenochtitlan.
Viewed from a distance, the _chinampa_ looked like an island of flowers.Except where the canopy of a white pavilion rose from the midst of thegreen beauty, it was covered to the water's edge with bloomingshrubbery, which, this evening, was luminous with the light of lamps.The radiance, glinting through the foliage, tinted the atmosphere aboveit with mellow rays, and seemed the visible presence of enchantment.
The humid night breeze blew softly under the raised walls of thepavilion, within which, in a hammock that swung to and fro regularly asthe _chinampa_ obeyed the waves, lay Tula and Nenetzin.
They were both beautiful, but different in their beauty. Tula's face wasround and of a transparent olive complexion, without being fair; hereyes were hazel, large, clear, and full of melancholy earnestness;masses of black hair, evenly parted, fell over her temples, and weregathered behind in a simple knot; with a tall, full form, her presenceand manner were grave and very queenly. Whereas, Nenetzin's eyes, thoughdark, were bright with the light of laughter; her voice was low andsweet, and her manner that of a hoyden. One was the noble woman, theother a jocund child.
"It is late, Tula; our father may want us. Let us return."
"Be patient a little longer. The 'tzin will come for us; he promised to,and you know he never forgets."
"Patience, sister! Ah! you may say it, you who _know_; but how am I topractise it,--I, who have only a _hope_?"
"What do you mean, Nenetzin?"
The girl leaned back, and struck a suspended hoop, in which was percheda large parrot. The touch, though light, interrupted the pendulousmotion of the bird, and it pecked at her hand, uttering a gruff screamof rage.
"You spoke of something I know, and you hope. What do you mean, child?"
Nenetzin withdrew her hand from the perch, looked in the questioner'sface, then crept up to win her embrace.
"O Tula, I know you are learned and thoughtful. Often after the banquet,when the hall was cleared, and the music begun, have I seen you standapart, silent, while all others danced or laughed. See, your eyes are onme now, but more in thought than love. O, indeed, you are wise! Tell me,did you ever think of me as a woman?"
The smile deepened on the lips, and burned in the eyes of the queenlyauditor.
"No, never as a woman," continued Nenetzin. "Listen to me, Tula. Theother night I was asleep in your arms,--I felt them in love aroundme,--and I dreamed so strangely."
"Of what?" asked Tula, seeing she hesitated.
"I dreamed there entered at the palace door a being with a countenancewhite like snow, while its hair and beard were yellow, like the silk ofthe maize; its eyes were blue, like the deep water of the lake, butbright, so bright that they terrified while they charmed me. Thinking ofit now, O Tula, it was a man, though it looked like a god. He enteredat the palace door, and came into the great chamber where our father satwith his chiefs; but he came not barefooted and in _nequen_; he spoke ashe were master, and our father a slave. Looking and listening, a feelingthrilled me,--thrilled warm and deep, and was a sense of joy, like ablessing of Tlalac. Since then, though I have acted as a girl, I havefelt as a woman."
"Very strange, indeed, Nenetzin!" said Tula, playfully. "But you forget:I asked you what I know, and you only hope?"
"I will explain directly; but as you are wise, first tell me what thatfeeling was."
"Nay, I can tell you whence the water flows, but I cannot tell you whatit is."
"Well, since then I have had a hope--"
"Well?"
"A hope of seeing the white face and blue eyes."
"I begin to understand you, Nenetzin. But go on: what is it I know?"
"What I dreamed,--a great warrior, who loves you. You will see himto-night, and then, O Tula,--then you may tell of the feeling thatthrilled me so in my dream."
And with a blush and a laugh, she laid her face in Tula's bosom.
Both were silent awhile, Nenetzin with her face hidden, and Tula lookingwistfully up at the parrot swinging lazily in the perch. The dream wassingular, and made an impression on the mind of the one as it had on theheart of the other.
"Look up, O Nenetzin!" said Tula, after a while. "Look up, and I willtell you something that has seemed as strange to me as the dream toyou."
The girl raised her head.
"Did you ever see Mualox, the old paba of Quetzal'? No? Well, he is saidto be a prophet; a look of his will make a warrior tremble. He is thefriend of Guatamozin, who always goes to his shrine to worship the god.I went there once to make an offering. I climbed the steps, went inwhere the image is, laid my gift on the altar, and turned to depart,when a man came and stood by the door, wearing a surplice, and withlong, flowing white beard. He looked at me, then bowed, and kissed thepavement at my feet. I shrank away. 'Fear not, O Tula!' he said. 'I bowto you, not for what you are, but for what you shall be. _You shall bequeen in your father's palace!_' With that he arose, and left me todescend."
"Said he so? How did he know you were Tula, the king's daughter?"
"That is part of the mystery. I never saw him before; nor, until I toldthe story to the 'tzin, did I know the paba. Now, O sister, can thebeliever of a dream refuse to believe a priest and prophet?"
"A queen! You a queen! I will kiss you now, and pray for you then." Andthey threw their arms lovingly around each other.
Then the bird above them awoke, and, with a fluttering of its scarletwings, cried, "Guatamo! Guatamo!"--taught it by the patient love ofTula.
"O, what a time that will be!" Nenetzin went on, with sparkling eyes."What a garden we will make of Anahuac! How happy we shall be! None butthe brave and beautiful shall come around us; for you will be queen, myTula."
"Yes; and Nenetzin shall have a lord, he whom she loves best, for shewill be as peerless as I am powerful," answered Tula, humoring the mood."Whom will she take? Let us decide now,--there are so many to choosefrom. What says she to Cacama, lord of Tezcuco?"
The girl made no answer.
"There is the lord of Chinantla, once a king, who has already asked ourfather for a wife."
Still Nenetzin was silent.
"Neither of them! Then there are left but the lord of Tlacopan, andIztlil', the Tezcucan."
At the mention of the last name, a strong expression of disgust burstfrom Nenetzin.
"A tiger from the museum first! It could be taught to love me. No, noneof them for me; none, Tula, if you let me have my way, but the whiteface and blue eyes I saw in my dream."
"You are mad, Nenetzin. That was a god, not a man."
"All the better, Tula! The god will forgive me
for loving him."
Before Tula spoke again, Guatamozin stepped within the pavilion.Nenetzin was noisy in expressing her gladness, while the elder sisterbetrayed no feeling by words; only her smile and the glow of her eyesintensified.
The 'tzin sat down by the hammock, and with his strong hand staying itsoscillation, talked lightly. As yet Tula knew nothing of the proposal ofthe Tezcucan, or of the favor the king had given it; but the ken of loveis as acute as an angel's; sorrow of the cherished heart cannot behidden from it; so in his very jests she detected a trouble; but,thinking it had relation to the condition of the Empire, she askednothing, while he, loath to disturb her happiness, counselled darkly ofhis own soul.
After a while, as Nenetzin prayed to return to the city, they left thepavilion; and, following a little path through the teeming shrubbery,and under the boughs of orange-trees, overarched like an arbor, theycame to the 'tzin's canoe. The keeper of the _chinampa_ was there withgreat bundles of flowers. Tula and Nenetzin entered the vessel; then wasthe time for the slave; so he threw in the bundles until they werenearly buried under them,--his gifts of love and allegiance. When therowers pushed off, he knelt with his face to the earth.
Gliding homeward through the dusk, Guatamozin told the story of Yeteve;and Tula, moved by the girl's devotion, consented to take her intoservice,--at least, until the temple claimed its own.