s yours, Kamaiakan: it is well to argue, when with a word
you can banish me forever! Yet what if I were to say that, unless you
consent to the thing I desire, I will not show you where the treasure
lies?"

"Princess Semitzin!" exclaimed the Indian, "remember that it is not
against me, but against the gods, that you would contend. The gods know
that I have no care for treasure. But they will not forgive a broken
oath; and they will not hold that one guiltless through whom it is
brought to naught?"

"Well, we shall meet again," answered Semitzin, after a pause. "But do
you remember that you, too, are not free from responsibility in this
matter. You have called me back: see to it that you do me justice." She
waved her hands with a gesture of adieu, turned, and left the enclosure.
Kamaiakan sank down again beside the empty bowl of the fountain.

Semitzin returned along the path by which she had come, towards the
house. As she turned round one of the corners, she saw a man's figure
before her, strolling slowly along in the same direction in which she
was going. In a few moments he heard her light footfall, and, facing
about, confronted her. She continued to advance until she was within
arm's reach of him: then she paused, and gazed steadfastly in his face.
He was the first human being, save Kamaiakan, that she had seen since
her eyes closed upon the world of Tenochtitlan, three hundred years
before.

The young man looked upon her with manifest surprise. It was too dark
to distinguish anything clearly, but it did not take him long to surmise
that the figure was that of a woman, and her countenance, though changed
in aspect by the head-dress she were, yet had features which, he knew,
he had seen before. But could it be Miriam Trednoke who was abroad at
such an hour and in such a costume? He did not recognize the Golden
Fleece, but it was evident enough that she was clad as women are not.

Before he could think of anything to say to her, she smiled, and uttered
some words in a soft, flowing language with which he was entirely
unacquainted. The next moment she had glided past him, and was out of
sight round the curve of the path, leaving him in a state of perplexity
not altogether gratifying.

"What the deuce can it mean?" he muttered to himself. "I can't be
mistaken about its being Miriam. And yet she didn't look at me as if
she recognized me. What can she be doing out here at midnight? I suppose
it's none of my business