“What, keep the queen waiting!” he exclaimed, aghast.  “She would go mad.  Impossible!  We must go as we are.”

Not wanting her majesty to go mad, I made no further demur, and we went.

The palace was a large adobe building within a walled inclosure, guarded by a company of braves with long spears.  We were ushered into the royal presence without either ceremony or delay.  The queen was sitting in a hammock with her feet resting on the ground.  She wore a bright-colored, loosely-fitting bodice, a skirt to match, and sandals.  Her long black hair was arranged in tails, of which there were seven on each side of her face.  She was short and stout, and perhaps thirty years old, and though in early youth she might have been well favored, her countenance now bore the impress of evil passions, and the sodden look of it, as also the blood-streaks in her eyes, showed that her drink was not always water.  At the same time, it was a powerful face, indicative of a strong character and a resolute will.  Her complexion was bright cinnamon, and the three or four women by whom she was attended were costumed like herself.

On entering the room the three caciques went on their knees, and after a moment’s hesitation Gahra followed their example.  I thought it quite enough to make my best bow.  Mamcuna then motioned us to draw nearer, and when we were within easy speaking distance she said something to Gondocori that sounded like a question or a command, on which he made a long and, as I judged from the vigor of his gesture and the earnestness of his manner, an eloquent speech.  I watched her closely and was glad to see that though she frowned once or twice during its delivery, she did not seem very angry.  I also observed that she looked at me much more than at the cacique, which I took to be a favorable sign.  The speech was followed by a lively dialogue between Mamcuna and the cacique, after which the latter turned to me and said, as coolly as if he were asking me to be seated: 

“The queen commands you to strip.”

“Commands me to strip!  What do you mean?”

“What I say; you have to strip—­undress, take off your clothes.”

“You are joking.”

“Joking!  I should like to see the man who would dare to take such a liberty in the audience-chamber of our Great Mother.  Pray don’t make words about it, senor.  Take off your clothes without any more bother, or she will be getting angry.”

“Let her get angry.  I shall do nothing of the sort—­No, don’t say that; say that English gentlemen—­I mean pale-face medicine-men from over the seas, never undress in the presence of ladies; their religion forbids it.”

Gondocori was about to remonstrate again when the queen interposed and insisted on knowing what I said.  When she heard that I refused to obey her behest she turned purple with rage, and looked as if she would annihilate me.  Then her mood, or her mind, changing, she laughed loudly, at the same time pointing to the door and making an observation to the cacique.