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Updated: June 18, 2025
For she is no more apprehensive of injury, now knowing him who carries her as her brother's old playfellow. Above all, does she feel reassured, on hearing whispered in her ear "Have no fear, Nacena! Am not I the bosom friend of your brother? I will not deceive you." Does she note the earnestness of his words, and the significant emphasis given to those last pronounced?
In hurried phrase she recounts the incidents which have occurred to her and Nacena on the Cemetery Hill, adding her conjectures as to what may have transpired since, and may still be in the act of occurrence.
The same instinct, however, prompts her to feign ignorance of it, as evinced by her interrogative rejoinder: "How can Nacena assist you? In what way?" "By helping us to get the paleface out of her prison." It is Gaspar who speaks. "She is imprisoned, is she not?" "She is." "And where is she kept?" further questions the gaucho. Cypriano trembles as he listens for the answer.
"Oh, nothing," she rejoins, with an effort to appear calm. "I've only been looking over the lake, at the birds out yonder. How they enjoy themselves this fine evening!" "But you're not enjoying yourself, Nacena; nor haven't been for some time past. I've noticed that; and more, I know the reason." She starts at his words; not to turn pale, but with the blood mantling into her brown cheeks.
With your help we shall take her away to a place where Aguara will never more set eyes upon her. But as I've said, we stand in need of your assistance, and you must give it." "You will, you will!" interposes Cypriano, in tones of earnest appeal. "Yes, dear Nacena," follows Ludwig, in tenderer tones; "I'm sure you will. Remember, she is my sister, and that you yourself have a brother!"
"No matter about thanks," responds the hag with a knowing leer; "Shebotha likes better the reward. And what you've promised will content her. But promises, as Nacena herself knows, are sometimes badly kept, and should have something to secure them, by way of earnest. What can you give me now?"
Despite her bronzed skin, Nacena is a beautiful creature; for the brown is not so deep as to hinder the crimson blush showing its tint upon her cheeks; and many a South American maiden, boasting the blue blood of Andalusia, has a complexion less fair than she.
But the plunge she now meditates is not for swimming, but to sink! "No!" she exclaims, after a pause, as she withdraws her gaze from the rock, the expression upon her face changing back to that of the jaguarete! "No, Spirit of the Waters! not yet. Nacena fears not to die, but that is not the death for the daughter of a Tovas chief. If wronged, she must resent it, and will.
And he told me my love was returned; spoke it solemnly; vowed it. Now I know his words were false, and he was but beguiling me." "Then he has trifled with you," exclaims the brother, his indignation now beyond bounds. "You, my sister, the daughter of a Tovas chief, of birth and blood equal to his own! But he shall repent it, and soon. The time has not come; it will ere long. Enough now, Nacena.
But Gaspar urges the danger of delay; above all, being burdened with a man not only witless, but now in all likelihood disabled by a wound which would make the transporting him an absolute impossibility. Ludwig and his sister are more desirous to turn aside, and learn how it is with Nacena. But again the gaucho, no: greatly given to sentiment, objects.
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