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staunch and brave. Irapúam is crafty and treacherous
as the Acauan.[1] Before the stranger can reach the
forest he must fall, and his brother must also fall with
him."
"What can the Tabajára maid do to save the stranger and his brother?" asked Martim.
"One more sun and another must rise, then the moon of flowers[2] will appear. It is the feast-time when the Tabajára braves pass the night in the Sacred Wood and receive from the Pagé their happy dreams. When they are all sleeping, the white warrior will leave the plains of Ipú, and will vanish from the eyes of Iraçéma, but not from her soul."
Martim strained the maiden to his breast, but soon he gently repelled her. The contact of her beautiful form, sweet as the forest lily, warm as the nest of the Beijaflor,[3] was as a thorn in his heart. He remembered the awful warning of the Pagé.
The voice of the Christian repeated to Poty the project of Iraçéma; the Pytiguára chief, prudent as the Tamanduá, took thought, and then replied—
"Wisdom has spoken by the mouth of the Tabajára Virgin. Poty will wait the moon of flowers."
CHAPTER XV.
The day was born and dead. The fire, companion of the night, already shone in the Wigwam of Araken. The stars, daughters of the moon, rolled their slow and silent courses in the blue heavens, awaiting the return of their absent mother.