On Maria-Teresa’s perfumed tresses they placed the royal borla, its golden fringe overshadowing her eyes and giving her a strange hieratic beauty. She shivered when the bat-skin robe slipped over her limbs; it was as if she had donned something viscous1 and icy, which from that instant made her part and parcel of the eternal night of which the bat is Coya.
Then they placed on her wrist a circlet which she recognized as the Golden Sun bracelet2. She realized that her last hours had begun, and thought sadly of the happy yet terrible day when this bracelet first appeared in her existence; she remembered the horror-stricken face of Aunt Agnes, the old duenna crossing herself, her father’s skepticism and Dick’s loving laugh. Where were they all now? Why—why did they not come to her rescue?
Maria-Teresa stretched out her arms to the Providence3 that seemed to have deserted4 her, and closed them again on little Christobal, placed in her lap by one of the attendants. When she saw him, clad like herself in the robes of night, she was seized with revolt. This could not be! She turned to the Guardians5 of the Temple, who came forward in answer to her look, gently swaying. There was no doubt of it! There were the same horrible skulls6 which Dick and she had seen taken out of the earth, come from their tombs to take her back with them. But she would speak, and test their mercy. She turned away her eyes, mortally afraid that the steady swaying would overpower her will, and told them she was ready to die quietly, as befitted a Bride of the Sun, if only they would spare the little boy and send him safely back to Lima.
“I will not leave you, Maria-Teresa! I will not leave you!”
“The child has spoken. So it is ordained7.”
The Guardians of the Temple exchanged glances and moved away again, gently swaying.
Maria-Teresa burst into tears, the ring of madness in her high sobs8, while the little boy clung desperately9, striving to console her.
“Do not cry, Maria-Teresa! They will come to save us. Papa and Dick will come.... Oh! What was that?”
From behind the walls come the strains of music. A curtain is raised, and the players enter—tall, sad-faced men who take their places in a ring around them. They are the sacred players of the quenia, the flute10 which is made of human bones. Their song is sadder than a De Profundis, and Maria-Teresa shivers, her beseeching11 eye exploring in vain every corner of the great bare room which is the antechamber of her tomb.
Monstrous12, Cyclopean masses of stone, hexagonal in shape and placed one upon the other without mortar13, held in place by their mighty14 weight alone, from the walls of the House of the Serpent. She knows where she is, for the mammaconas have told her. There are two Houses of the Serpent, one at Cajamarca, the other at Cuzco. They are called thus because of the stone serpent carved over the main entrances. The serpent is there to guard the sacred precincts, and never allows the victims of the Sun to escape. Aunt Agnes and old Irene have often told her this, and until now she has always laughed.
Maria-Teresa, then, is in Cuzco, in a palace well known to travelers, historians, and archaeologists; a place which all may enter, which all may leave in freedom; a place to which guides bring the curious stranger. Then what does it all mean? Why should she fear? They are Sure to come to her rescue. But why are they still not here?
Which way will they come? Listen! Yes, above the sad piping of the quenias rise other sounds: murmurs15, footsteps, and the dull rumble16 of a gathering17 throng18. It comes from over there, from behind that vast curtain, that vast golden-yellow curtain which stretches right across the room and prevents her from seeing. What does it hide, and what is that crowd awaiting?
Maria-Teresa questions the two mammaconas who are to die with her. They are stretched at her feet in their long black veils, and rise with respect to answer. The faithful are waiting to adore King Huayna Capac, who will come to lead her back to Atahualpa. Maria-Teresa, uncomprehending, asks more questions. He will come from the bowels19 of the earth to claim them, and they will pass through the realms of night in their robes of mourning, till they reach the Enchanted20 Realms of the Sun. Then they will be clad all in gold, with golden dresses and jewels of gold, for all time.
“And the little boy?” asked Maria-Teresa.
To her horror, they turned their heads away and did not answer. She caught Christobal more closely to her, covering his face with kisses, as if she wished to smother21 him with caresses22 to save him from a more terrible fate. The child strove to console her. “Do not be afraid,” he whispered. “Papa and Dick will come, not the wicked King. They will soon be here.”
On one of the giant stones are mysterious signs to which the whispering mammaconas draw each other’s attention—strange sculptured figures with the head of man and the body of the coraquenque. In all time and on all the earth, so say the Incas, there has been only one couple of coraquenques, two of the mystic birds which appeared in the mountains at the coronation of each new king and gave him two of their feathers to adorn23 his head-dress.
Behind the curtain, the noise has ceased, and the song of the quenias suddenly grows so piercing that Maria-Teresa cries out in terror. Christobal, clutching at her bosom24, nestles closer. Then the curtains are parted, and the whole hall is revealed.
Below, a long way below her, is a prostrate25 and silent crowd. On the porphyry steps which stretch down to this crowd stand the three Guardians of the Temple. A step below them, Huas-car, his arms crossed under his red poncho26. Lower still, four prostrate Red Ponchos27, who are the Guards of the Sacrifice. Their heads, completely hidden by the sacred bonnet28 and ear-caps, are bent29 so low that none can see their faces.
Surely there is somebody in that huge crowd who will free her! Maria-Teresa, filled with a wild hope, rises with the child in her arms, and cries for mercy. But the booming answer takes away all hope. “Muera la Coya! Muera la Coya! To death with the Queen!” They give her the title in A?mara, but clamor for her death in Spanish, that she may understand.
The four mammaconas on her right, the four others on her left and the two who were to die with her surrounded the young girl, forced her back to her seat. But she still struggled, holding up the boy, and begging that he at least might be spared.
“He is the sacrifice of Pacahuamac,” came the answer. And the mammaconas, taking up the echo, chanted: “The sacrifice of Pacahuamac! Before all things began, before the Sun and before the Moon, his sister, was the Great Spirit, Pacahuamac. Pacahuamac, the Great Spirit!”
Down below there, the surging crowd took up the cry. Huascar, turning, commanded silence with a gesture.
They were all standing30 now, except the four Red Ponchos on the last step; still prostrate and silent. The cry of the quenias rose again, strident and shrill31; soon they alone were to be heard. Maria-Teresa, crushed, conquered, had ceased struggling. Not a voice, not a sign, had answered the appeal. In a groan32, she begged the mammaconas for their perfumes. “Have mercy. Bring your perfumes. Then we shall not suffer.” The two who were to die with her shook their heads. “We must go to Atahualpa waking, with all our hearts and all our senses, that heart and senses may live hereafter.”
The quenia players ceased their music, and a terrible, gripping silence descended33 on the hall. The faithful fell to their knees, and Huascar’s sonorous34 voice commanded silence.
“Silence! Silence in the House of the Serpent! The dead King is coming! Listen!”
It was as if an earthquake had shaken the walls. The place was filled with thunder. But instead of coming from the heavens, it rose from the very bowels of the earth.
Little Christobal trembled in his sister’s arms, clung closer, and whispered, “Look, Maria-Teresa! Look at the Red Ponchos.” She lifted her eyes, looked, trembled, and forced herself to silence. While every other head was bent in worship, the Guards of the Sacrifice had raised theirs, and under the sacred bonnets35, despite the stain that disguised them, Maria-Teresa recognized the faces of Dick, her father, Natividad and Uncle Francis.
When she looked a second time, the four bonnets were prostrate again, and a cry from Huascar, herald36 of Huayna Capac, brought the multitude to its feet.
Another tremor37 shook the very foundations of the temple, and one wall seemed to vanish.
“Huayna Capac!”
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收听单词发音
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1
viscous
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| adj.粘滞的，粘性的 | |
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2
bracelet
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| n.手镯，臂镯 | |
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3
providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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4
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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5
guardians
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| 监护人( guardian的名词复数 )； 保护者，维护者 | |
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6
skulls
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| 颅骨( skull的名词复数 )； 脑袋； 脑子； 脑瓜 | |
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7
ordained
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| v.任命（某人）为牧师( ordain的过去式和过去分词 )；授予（某人）圣职；（上帝、法律等）命令；判定 | |
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8
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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9
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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10
flute
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| n.长笛；v.吹笛 | |
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11
beseeching
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| adj.恳求似的v.恳求，乞求（某事物）( beseech的现在分词 ) | |
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12
monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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13
mortar
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| n.灰浆，灰泥；迫击炮；v.把…用灰浆涂接合 | |
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14
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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15
murmurs
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| n.低沉、连续而不清的声音( murmur的名词复数 )；低语声；怨言；嘀咕 | |
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16
rumble
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| n.隆隆声；吵嚷；v.隆隆响；低沉地说 | |
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17
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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18
throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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19
bowels
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| n.肠，内脏，内部；肠( bowel的名词复数 )；内部，最深处 | |
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20
enchanted
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| adj. 被施魔法的，陶醉的，入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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21
smother
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| vt./vi.使窒息；抑制；闷死；n.浓烟；窒息 | |
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22
caresses
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| 爱抚，抚摸( caress的名词复数 ) | |
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23
adorn
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| vt.使美化，装饰 | |
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24
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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25
prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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26
poncho
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| n.斗篷，雨衣 | |
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27
ponchos
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| n.斗篷( poncho的名词复数 ) | |
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28
bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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29
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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30
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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31
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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32
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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33
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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34
sonorous
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| adj.响亮的，回响的；adv.圆润低沉地；感人地；n.感人，堂皇 | |
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35
bonnets
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| n.童帽( bonnet的名词复数 )；（烟囱等的）覆盖物；（苏格兰男子的）无边呢帽；（女子戴的）任何一种帽子 | |
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36
herald
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| vt.预示...的来临，预告，宣布，欢迎 | |
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37
tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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