So it came to pass that, albeit the mission of Quipai was in the dominion of the King of Spain, none of his agents knew of its existence, his writs did not run there, and Balthazar treated the royal decree for the expulsion of the Jesuits from South America (of which he heard two or three years after its promulgation) with the contempt that he thought it deserved.  Nevertheless, he deemed it the part of prudence to maintain his isolation more rigidly than ever, and make his communications with the outer world few and far between, for had it become known to the captain-general of Peru that there was a member of the proscribed order in his vice-royalty, even at so out of the way a place as Quipai he would have been sent about his business without ceremony.  The possibility of this contingency was always in the abbe’s mind.  For a time it caused him serious disquiet; but as the years went on and no notice was taken of him his mind became easier.  The news I brought of the then recent events in Spain and the revolt of her colonies made him easier.  The viceroy would have too many irons in the fire to trouble himself about the mission of Quipai and its chief, even if they should come to his knowledge, which was to the last degree improbable.  We sat talking for several hours, and should probably have talked longer had not the abbe kindly yet peremptorily insisted on my retiring to rest.

Early next morning we started on an excursion to the valley lake, each of us mounted on a fine mule from the abbe’s stables, and attended by an arriero.  North as well as south of San Cristobal (as the village was generally called) the country had the same garden-like aspect.  There was none of the tangled vegetation which in tropical forests impedes the traveller’s progress; except where they had been planted by the roadside for protection from the sun, or bent over the water-courses, the trees grew wide apart like trees in a park.  Men and women were busy in the fields and plantations, for the abbe had done even a more wonderful thing than restoring the great azequia—­converted a tribe of indolent aborigines into an industrious community of husbandmen and craftsmen; among them were carpenters, smiths, masons, weavers, dyers, and cunning workers in silver and gold.  The secret of his power was the personal ascendancy of a strong man, the naturally docile character of his converts, the inflexible justice which characterized all his dealings with them, and the belief assiduously cultivated, that as he had been their benefactor in this world he could control their destinies in the next.  Though he never punished he was always obeyed, and there was probably not a man or woman under his sway who would have hesitated to obey him, even to death.

The lake was small yet picturesque, its verdant banks deepening by contrast the dark desolation of the arid mountains in which it was embosomed.  Some three thousand feet above it rose the extinct volcano, the slopes of which in the days of the Incas were terraced and cultivated.  Angela and I half rode, half walked to the top; but the abbe, on the plea that he had some business to look after, stayed at the bottom.