The Romance of Golden Star | Page 9

where am I? Tell me--you who have doubtless
brought me back to the life we forsook together--was it last night or
how many nights or moons ago?'
The words came slowly at first, like those of a man still on the

borderland between sleep and waking; but each one was spoken more
clearly and decisively than the one before it, and the last sentence was
uttered in the strong, steady tones of a man in full possession of his
faculties.
'Come here, Lamson,' said Djama, a trifle nervously; 'bring the soup
with you, and some brandy, though I don't think he needs it. Do you
understand what he said?'
[Illustration: "Am I only dreaming that the death-sleep is over?"
To face page 26.]
'Yes,' replied the professor, coming to the bedside with a cup of soup in
one hand and a glass of brandy and water in the ether. Both hands
trembled as he set the cup and the glass down on a little table. He
looked at the Inca like a man looking at a re-embodied spirit, and said
to him in Quichua,--
'I am not he who has brought you back to life, but my friend here, who
is a great and skilled physician, and master of the arts of life and death.
You are in his house, and safe, for we are friends, and have nursed you
back to health and waking life after your long sleep.'
'But Golden Star,' said the Inca, interrupting him with a flash of
impatience in his eyes. 'Where is she--my bride who went with me into
the shades of death? Have you not brought her, too, back to life?'
The professor stared in silence at the strange speaker of these strange
words, which told him so plainly that the old legend of the death-bridal
of Vilcaroya-Inca and Golden Star was now no legend at all, but a true
story which had come down almost unchanged from generation to
generation. Then an infinite pity filled his heart for this lonely wanderer
from another age, whose friends and kindred had been dead for
centuries, and whose very nation was now only a shadowy name on a
half-forgotten page of history.
'What does he say?' said Djama, breaking in upon his reverie. 'I

suppose he wants to know where he is, and what has become of that
sweetheart of his he was dreaming about?'
'Yes,' replied the professor; 'but you won't understand properly until I
have told you the story. Poor fellow! I suppose we shall have to tell
him the ghastly truth. Good Heavens! fancy telling a man that his wife
has been dead for three hundred years or more! Look here, Djama, this
business can't stop here, you know. What a fool I was, after all, not to
see if there wasn't another chamber beside the one I found him in! Of
course there must be, and I have no doubt she is lying there at this
present moment. We shall have to go and find her, and you must
restore her as you have done him. Phew! where is it all going to end, I
wonder!'
'And suppose we can't find her, or suppose I fail, even if I can bring
myself to undertake that horrible work all over again?' said Djama,
looking almost fearfully at the Inca, who was still sitting up in the bed
glancing mutely from one to the other, as though waiting for an answer
to his question. Then, keeping his voice as steady as he could, the
professor told him the story of his resuscitation, addressing him by his
own name and ending by asking him if he remembered when he and
Golden Star had devoted themselves to die together, as the tradition
said they had done.
'Yes, I remember!' said Vilcaroya, with brightening eyes and faintly
flushing cheeks. 'How could I forget it? It was when the bearded
strangers from the north had come and taken the usurper Atahuallpa
prisoner in the midst of his conquering host at Cajamarca. It was after
the Inca Huascar had been slain by stealth with a traitor's knife. It was
on the night of the feast of Raymi, when our Father the Sun had left the
Sacred Fleece unkindled, and when was fulfilled the prophecy that the
night should fall over the land of the Children of the Sun. Now, tell me,
you who speak the language of my people, how long have I been
sleeping?'
Instead of replying directly, he offered the Inca the cup of broth, and
asked him first to take the nourishment that he must need so greatly
after his long fast, telling him that it was needful to prevent him losing

his new-found strength again. When he had eaten and drunk a little,
then he would tell