Having meanwhile reflected that I was not in an English drawing-room, that this wretched woman could have me stripped whether I would or no, and that refusal to comply with her wishes might cost me my life, I asked Gondocori why the queen wanted me to undress.

“She wants to see whether your body is as hairy as your face (I had not shaved since I left Naperima), and your face as fair as your body.”

“Will it satisfy her if I meet her half-way—­strip to the waist?  You can say that I never did as much for any woman before, and that I would not do it for the queen of my own country, whatever might be the consequence.”

The cacique interpreted my proposal, and Mamcuna smiled assent.  “The queen says, ‘let it be as you say;’ and she charges me to tell you that she is very much pleased to know that you will do for her what you would not do for any other woman.”

On that I took off my upper garments and Mamcuna, rising from her hammock, examined me as closely as a military surgeon examines a freshly caught recruit.  She felt the muscles of my arms, thumped my chest, took note of the width of my back, punched my ribs, and finally pulled a few hairs out of my beard.  Then, smiling approval, she retired to her chinchura.

“You may put on your clothes; the inspection is over,” said Gondocori.  “I am glad it has passed off so well.  I was rather afraid, though, when she began to pinch you.”

“Afraid of what?”

“Well, the queen is rather curious about skin and color and that, and does curious things sometimes.  She once had a strip of skin cut out of a mestiza maiden’s back, to see whether it was the same color on both sides.  But she seems to have taken quite a liking for you; says you are the prettiest man she ever saw; and if you cure her of her illness I have no doubt she will give you a condor’s skull helmet and make you a cacique.”

“I am greatly obliged to her Majesty, I am sure, and very thankful she did not take a fancy to cut a piece out of my back.  As for curing her, I must first of all know what is the matter.”

“Shall I ask her to describe her symptoms?”

“If you please.”  In reply to the questions which I put, through Gondocori, the queen said that she suffered from headache, nausea, and sleeplessness, and that, whereas only a few years ago she was lithe, active, and gay, she was now heavy, indolent, and melancholy, adding that she had suffered much at the hands of the late court medicine-man, who did not understand her case at all, and that to punish him for his ignorance and presumption she made him swallow a jarful of his own physic, from the effects of which he shortly afterward expired in great agony.  The place was now vacant, and if I succeeded in restoring her to health she would make me his successor and always have me near her person.

I cannot say that I regarded this prospect as particularly encouraging; nevertheless, I tried to look pleased and told Gondocori to assure the queen of my gratitude and devotion and ask her to show me her tongue.  He put this request with evident reluctance, and Mamcuna made an angry reply.