eyes and ran down my painted face, and I turned my head to look at her.
She was lying as much upon her left side as her hands would allow, her
long hair fell from the stone to the paving where it lay in masses, and
her face was towards me. So close was it indeed that there was not an
inch between our lips.

'Otomie,' I whispered, 'listen to me. I love you, Otomie.' Now I saw her
breast heave beneath the bands and the colour come upon her brow.

'Then I am repaid,' she answered, and our lips clung together in a kiss,
the first, and as we thought the last. Yes, there we kissed, on the
stone of sacrifice, beneath the knife of the priest and the shadow of
death, and if there has been a stranger love scene in the world, I have
never heard its story.

'Oh! I am repaid,' she said again; 'I would gladly die a score of deaths
to win this moment, indeed I pray that I may die before you take back
your words. For, Teule, I know well that there is one who is dearer to
you than I am, but now your heart is softened by the faithfulness of an
Indian girl, and you think that you love her. Let me die then believing
that the dream is true.'

'Talk not so,' I answered heavily, for even at that moment the memory
of Lily came into my mind. 'You give your life for me and I love you for
it.'

'My life is nothing and your love is much,' she answered smiling. 'Ah!
Teule, what magic have you that you can bring me, Montezuma's daughter,
to the altar of the gods and of my own free will? Well, I desire no
softer bed, and for the why and wherefore it will soon be known by both