"Look at those peaks," I said. "It is like that with the world--this world we are standing on. Beyond that great water that flows all round the world, but far away, so far that it would take months in a big boat to reach them, there are islands, some small, others as large as this world. But, Rima, they are so far away, so impossible to reach, that it is useless to speak or to think of them. They are to us like the sun and moon and stars, to which we cannot fly. And now sit down and rest by my side, for you know everything."She glanced at me with troubled eyes.
"Nothing do I know--nothing have you told me. Did I not say that mountains and rivers and forests are nothing? Tell me about all the people in the world. Look! there is Cuzco over there, a city like no other in the world--did you not tell me so? Of the people nothing. Are they also different from all others in the world?""I will tell you that if you will first answer me one question, Rima."She drew a little nearer, curious to hear, but was silent.
"Promise that you will answer me," I persisted, and as she continued silent, I added: "Shall I not ask you, then?""Say," she murmured.
"Why do you wish to know about the people of Cuzco?"She flashed a look at me, then averted her face. For some moments she stood hesitating; then, coming closer, touched me on the shoulder and said softly: "Turn away, do not look at me."I obeyed, and bending so close that I felt her warm breath on my neck, she whispered: "Are the people in Cuzco like me? Would they understand me--the things you cannot understand? Do you know?"Her tremulous voice betrayed her agitation, and her words, Iimagined, revealed the motive of her action in bringing me to the summit of Ytaioa, and of her desire to visit and know all the various peoples inhabiting the world. She had begun to realize, after knowing me, her isolation and unlikeness to others, and at the same time to dream that all human beings might not be unlike her and unable to understand her mysterious speech and to enter into her thoughts and feelings.
"I can answer that question, Rima," I said. "Ah, no, poor child, there are none there like you--not one, not one. Of all there--priests, soldiers, merchants, workmen, white, black, red, and mixed; men and women, old and young, rich and poor, ugly and beautiful--not one would understand the sweet language you speak."She said nothing, and glancing round, I discovered that she was walking away, her fingers clasped before her, her eyes cast down, and looking profoundly dejected. Jumping up, I hurried after her. "Listen!" I said, coming to her side. "Do you know that there are others in the world like you who would understand your speech?""Oh, do I not! Yes--mother told me. I was young when you died, but, O mother, why did you not tell me more?""But where?""Oh, do you not think that I would go to them if I knew--that Iwould ask?""Does Nuflo know?"
She shook her head, walking dejectedly along.
"But have you asked him?" I persisted.
"Have I not! Not once--not a hundred times."Suddenly she paused. "Look," she said, "now we are standing in Guayana again. And over there in Brazil, and up there towards the Cordilleras, it is unknown. And there are people there.
Come, let us go and seek for my mother's people in that place.
