Otomie,' I said, 'and listen to me. You see this golden
token,' and I drew Lily's posy ring from my hand, 'and you see the
writing within it.'

She bent her head but did not speak, and I saw that there was fear in
her eyes.

'I will read you the words, Otomie,' and I translated into the Aztec
tongue the quaint couplet:

Heart to heart, Though far apart.

Then at last she spoke. 'What does the writing mean?' she said. 'I can
only read in pictures, Teule.'

'It means, Otomie, that in the far land whence I come, there is a woman
who loves me, and who is my love.'

'Is she your wife then?'

'She is not my wife, Otomie, but she is vowed to me in marriage.'

'She is vowed to you in marriage,' she answered bitterly: 'why, then we
are equal, for so am I, Teule. But there is this difference between us;
you love her, and me you do not love. That is what you would make clear
to me. Spare me more words, I understand all. Still it seems that if I
have lost, she is also in the path of loss. Great seas roll between
you and this love of yours, Teule, seas of water, and the altar of
sacrifice, and the nothingness of death. Now let me go. Your wife I must
be, for there is no escape, but I shall not trouble you over much, and
it will soon be done with. Then you may seek your desire in the Houses
of the Stars whither you must wander, and it is my prayer that you shall
win it. All these months I have been planning to find hope for you, and
I thought that I had found it. But it was built upon a false belief, and
it is ended. Had you been able to say from your heart that you loved
me, it might have been well for both of us; should you be able to say
it before the end, it may still be well. But I do not ask you to say it,
and beware how you tell me a lie. I leave you, Teule, but before I go
I will say that I honour you more in this hour than I have honoured you
before, because you have dared to speak the truth to me, Montezuma's
daughter, when a lie had been so easy and so safe. That woman beyond
the seas should be grateful to you, but though I bear her no ill will,
between me and her there is a struggle to the death. We are strangers to
each other, and strangers we shall remain, but she has touched your
hand as I touch it now; you link us together and are our bond of enmity.
Farewell my husband that is to be. We shall meet no more till that sorry
day when a "slut" shall be given to a "felon" in marriage. I use your
own words, T