THE FAIR GOD (Illustrated Edition). Lew Wallace
hear my mother’s voice, which was the kindliest thing on earth to him. But Our Mother called her on the coming of a bright morning, and since then he has asked for bread, when I had not a tuna32 to give him. O Xoli! did you but know what it is to ask for bread, when there is none! I am his child, and can think of but one way to quiet his cry.” And she paused, looking in his face for encouragement.
“Tell me your name, girl; tell me your name, then go on,” he said, with a trembling lip, for his soul was clever.
At that instant the old man moaned querulously, “Yeteve, Yeteve!”
She went, and clasped his neck, and spoke to him soothingly. Xoli’s eyes became humid; down in the depths of his heart an emotion grew strangely warm.
“Yeteve, Yeteve!” he repeated, musingly, thinking the syllables soft and pretty. “Come; stand here again, Yeteve,” said he, aloud, when the dotard was pacified. “He wants bread, you say: how would you supply him?”
“You are rich. You want many slaves; and the law permits the poor to sell themselves.33 I would be your slave,—asking no price, except that you give the beggar bread.”
“A slave! Sell yourself!” he cried, in dismay. “A slave! Why, you are beautiful, Yeteve, and have not bethought yourself that some day the gods may want you for a victim.”
She was silent.
“What can you do? Dance? Sing? Can you weave soft veils and embroider golden flowers, like ladies in the palaces? If you can, no slave in Anahuac will be so peerless; the lords will bid more cocoa than you can carry; you will be rich.”
“If so, then can I do all you have said.”
And she ran, and embraced the old man, saying, “Patience, patience! In a little while we will have bread, and be rich. Yes,” she continued, returning to the Chalcan, “they taught me in the teocallis, where they would have had me as priestess.”
“It is good to be a priestess, Yeteve; you should have stayed there.”
“But I did so love the little hut by the causeway. And I loved the beggar, and they let me go.”
“And now you wish to sell yourself? I want slaves, but not such as you, Yeteve. I want those who can work,—slaves whom the lash will hurt, but not kill. Besides, you are worth more cocoa than I can spare. Keep back your tears. I will do better than buy you myself. I will sell you, and to-night. Here in my house you shall dance for the bidders. I know them all. He shall be brave and rich and clever who buys,—clever and brave, and the owner of a palace, full of bread for the beggar, and love for Yeteve.”
Clapping his hands, a slave appeared at the door.
“Take yon beggar, and give him to eat. Lead him,—he is blind. Come, child, follow me.”
He summoned his servants, and bade them publish the sale in every apartment; then he led the girl to the hall used for the exhibition of his own dancing-girls. It was roomy and finely lighted; the floor was of polished marble; a blue drop-curtain extended across the northern end, in front of which were rows of stools, handsomely cushioned, for spectators. Music, measured for the dance, greeted the poor priestess, and had a magical effect upon her; her eyes brightened, a smile played about her mouth. Never was the chamber of the rich Chalcan graced by a creature fairer or more devoted.
“A priestess of the dance needs no teaching from me,” said Xoli, patting her flushed cheek. “Get ready; they are coming. Beware of the marble; and when I clap my hands, begin.”
She looked around the hall once; not a point escaped her. Springing to the great curtain, and throwing her robe away, she stood before it in her simple attire; and no studied effect of art could have been more beautiful; motionless and lovely, against the relief of the blue background, she seemed actually spirituelle.
Upon the announcement of the auction, the patrons of the house hurried to the scene. Voluntary renunciation of freedom was common enough among the poorer classes in Tenochtitlan, but a transaction of the kind under the auspices of the rich broker was a novelty; so that curiosity and expectation ran high. The nobles, as they arrived, occupied the space in front of the curtain, or seated themselves, marvelling at the expression of her countenance.
The music had not ceased; and the bidders being gathered, Xoli, smiling with satisfaction, stepped forward to give the signal, when an uproar of merriment announced the arrival of a party of the younger dignitaries of the court,—amongst them Iztlil’, the Tezcucan, and Maxtla, chief of the guard, the former showing signs of quick recovery from his wounds, the latter superbly attired.
“Hold! What have we here?” cried the Tezcucan, surveying the girl. “Has this son of Chalco been robbing the palace?”
“The temples, my lord Iztlil’! He has robbed the temples! By all the gods, it is the priestess Yeteve!” answered Maxtla, amazed. “Say, Chalcan, what does priestess of the Blessed Lady in such unhallowed den?”
The broker explained.
“Good, good!” shouted the new-comers.
“Begin, Xoli! A thousand cocoa for the priestess,—millions of bread for the beggar!” This from Maxtla.
“Only a thousand?” said Iztlil’, scornfully. “Only a thousand? Five thousand to begin with, more after she dances.”
Xoli gave the signal, and the soul of the Chalcan girl broke forth in motion. Dancing had been her rôle in the religious rites of the temple; many a time the pabas around the altar, allured by her matchless grace, had turned from the bleeding heart indifferent to its auguration. And she had always danced moved by no warmer impulse than duty; so that the prompting of the spirit in the presence of a strange auditory free to express itself, like that she now faced, came to her for the first time. The dance chosen was one of the wild, quick, pulsating figures wont to be given in thanksgiving for favorable tokens from the deity. The steps were irregular and difficult; a great variety of posturing was required; the head, arms, and feet had each their parts, all to be rendered in harmony. At the commencement she was frightened by the ecstasy that possessed her; suddenly the crowd vanished, and she saw only the beggar, and him wanting bread. Then her form became divinely gifted; she bounded as if winged; advanced and retreated, a moment swaying like a reed, the next whirling like a leaf in a circling wind. The expression of her countenance throughout was so full of soul, so intense, rapt, and beautiful, that the lords were spell-bound. When the figure was ended, there was an outburst of voices, some bidding, others applauding; though most of the spectators were silent from pity and admiration.
Of the competitors the loudest was Iztlil’. In his excitement, he would have sacrificed his province to become the owner of the girl. Maxtla opposed him.
“Five thousand cocoa! Hear, Chalcan!” shouted the Tezcucan.
“A thousand better!” answered Maxtla, laughing at the cacique’s rage.
“By all the gods, I will have her! Put me down a thousand quills of gold!”
“A thousand quills above him! Not bread, but riches for the beggar!” replied Maxtla, half in derision.
“Two thousand,—only two thousand quills! More, noble lords! She is worth a palace!” sung Xoli, trembling with excitement; for in such large bids he saw an extraordinary loan. Just then, under the parted curtain of the principal doorway, he beheld one dear to every lover of Tenochtitlan; he stopped. All eyes turned in that direction, and a general exclamation followed,—“The ’tzin, the ’tzin!”
Guatamozin was in full military garb, and armed. As he lingered by the door to comprehend the scene, what with his height, brassy helm, and embossed shield, he looked like a Greek returned from Troy.
“Yeteve, the priestess!” he said. “Impossible!”
He strode to the front.
“How?” he said, placing his hand on her head. “Has Yeteve flown the temple to become a slave?”
Up to this time,