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Education in Computer
Generated Environments

This book examines the implications of computer-generated learning for

curriculum design, epistemology, and pedagogy, exploring the ways these
technologies transform the relationship between knowledge and learning,
and between teachers and students. It argues that these technologies and
practices have the potential to refocus on the human factors that are at the
center of the learning process.

Sara de Freitas is Director of Research and Professor of Virtual Environ-

ments at Coventry University. Sara was responsible for setting up the Seri-
ous Games Institute, a hybrid model of research, business and study, the
fi rst institute of its kind. She publishes widely in the areas of game-based
learning, e-learning and education policy.
Routledge Research in Education

For a full list of titles in this series, please visit www.routledge.com.

76 The Politics of Knowledge in 83 Teacher Development in Higher

Education Education
Elizabeth Rata Existing Programs, Program
Impact, and Future Trends
77 Neoliberalism, Pedagogy and Edited by Eszter Simon
Human Development and Gabriela Pleschová
Exploring Time, Mediation and
Collectivity in Contemporary 84 Virtual Literacies
Schools Interactive Spaces for Children
Michalis Kontopodis and Young People
Edited by Guy Merchant,
78 Resourcing Early Learners Julia Gillen, Jackie Marsh
New Networks, New Actors and Julia Davies
Sue Nichols, Jennifer Rowsell,
Helen Nixon and Sophia Rainbird 85 Geography and Social Justice in
the Classroom
79 Educating for Peace in a Time of Edited by Todd W. Kenreich
“Permanent War”
Are Schools Part of the Solution 86 Diversity, Intercultural
or the Problem? Encounters, and Education
Edited by Paul R. Carr Edited by Susana Gonçalves
and Brad J. Porfilio and Markus A. Carpenter

80 The Politics of Teacher 87 The Role of Participants in

Professional Development Education Research
Policy, Research and Practice Ethics, Epistemologies, and
Ian Hardy Methods
Edited by Warren Midgley,
81 Working-Class Minority Patrick Alan Danaher
Students’ Routes to Higher and Margaret Baguley
Education
Roberta Espinoza 88 Care in Education
Teaching with Understanding
82 Education, Indigenous and Compassion
Knowledges, and Development Sandra Wilde
in the Global South
Contesting Knowledges for a 89 Family, Community, and Higher
Sustainable Future Education
Anders Breidlid Edited by Toby S. Jenkins
90 Rethinking School Bullying 98 Language Teachers and
Dominance, Identity and School Teaching
Culture Global Perspectives, Local
Ronald B. Jacobson Initiatives
Edited by Selim Ben Said
91 Language, Literacy, and and Lawrence Jun Zhang
Pedagogy in Postindustrial
Societies 99 Towards Methodologically
The Case of Black Academic Inclusive Research Syntheses
Underachievement Expanding Possibilities
Paul C. Mocombe Harsh Suri
and Carol Tomlin
100 Raising Literacy Achievement
92 Education for Civic and in High-Poverty Schools
Political Participation An Evidence-Based Approach
A Critical Approach Eithne Kennedy
Edited by Reinhold Hedtke
and Tatjana Zimenkova 101 Learning and Collective
Creativity
93 Language Teaching Through Activity-Theoretical and
the Ages Sociocultural Studies
Garon Wheeler Annalisa Sannino and Viv Ellis

94 Refugees, Immigrants, 102 Educational Inequalities

and Education in the Difference and Diversity in
Global South Schools and Higher Education
Lives in Motion Edited by Kalwant Bhopal
Edited by Lesley Bartlett and Uvanney Maylor
and Ameena Ghaffar-Kucher
103 Education, Social Background
95 The Resegregation of Schools and Cognitive Ability
Education and Race in the The Decline of the Social
Twenty-First Century Gary N. Marks
Edited by Jamel K. Donnor
and Adrienne D. Dixson 104 Education in Computer
Generated Environments
96 Autobiographical Writing and Sara de Freitas
Identity in EFL Education
Shizhou Yang

97 Online Learning and

Community Cohesion
Linking Schools
Roger Austin
and William Hunter
Page Intentionally Left Blank
Education in Computer
Generated Environments

Sara de Freitas

NEW YORK LONDON

First published 2014
by Routledge
711 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017
Simultaneously published in the UK
by Routledge
2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN
Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group,
an informa business
© 2014 Taylor & Francis
The right of Sara de Freitas to be identified as the author of this work has
been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright,
Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or
utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now
known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in
any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing
from the publishers.
Trademark Notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or
registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation
without intent to infringe.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Freitas, Sara de.
Education in computer generated environments / Sara de Freitas. —
First edition.
pages cm. — (Routledge research in education ; 104)
Includes bibliographical references and index.
1. Computer-assisted instruction. 2. Curriculum planning—Data
processing. I. Title.
LB1028.5.F754 2013
371.33'4—dc23
2013015126
ISBN13: 978-0-415-63402-1 (hbk)
ISBN13: 978-0-203-09470-9 (ebk)

Typeset in Sabon
by IBT Global.
For Guy
Page Intentionally Left Blank
Contents

List of Figures xi
List of Tables xiii
List of Boxes xv
Foreword xvii
Preface xix

Introduction: Learning in Computer Generated Environments 1

1 The Context of Learning 19

2 Social Play and the Virtual World 61

3 Designing Learning 83

4 Learning as Exploration and Experience 113

Conclusions: New Learning in the Digital Age 126

Appendix A: Glossary of Terms 131

Appendix B: List of Selected Educational Games 135
Appendix C: List of Virtual World Categories 141
Appendix D: List of Virtual Worlds 143
Notes 149
References 151
Index 165
Page Intentionally Left Blank
Figures

1.1 The University of Sussex’s Creativity Zone. 54

1.2 A teaching session at the University of Sussex’s Creativity
Zone. 54
1.3 Students using Second Life for learning purposes. 58
1.4 Second Life being used for a study session. 59
2.1 Age distribution in four species of mammal. 66
3.1 The four dimensional framework. 98
3.2 Monsters in Code of Everand. 105
3.3 Spirit channels in Code of Everand. 106
3.4 The PR:EPARe game takes the format of a game show. 108
3.5 A scenario in the PR:EPARe game. 109
4.1 The exploratory learning model, developed from Kolb’s
experiential learning model. 120
Page Intentionally Left Blank
Tables

1.1 The Micro, Meso and Macro Levels of Learning 44

2.1 Comparison of Current and Future Schools 81
3.1 21st Century Skills 89
Page Intentionally Left Blank
Boxes

1.1 Immersion 31
1.2 Online Learning Communities 36
1.3 Ssecond Life and OpenSim 57
2.1 The Ardcalloch Simulation Game 75
2.2 The Quest to Learn School 78
2.3 The Grange Primary School 79
3.1 The Four Dimensional Framework 97
3.2 The Code of Everand Game 104
3.3 The PR:EPARe Game 107
Page Intentionally Left Blank
Foreword

We are witnessing a genuine revolution in education. Some of us are already

immersed in it. Some of us are standing nervously on the poolside unsure
whether or how to plunge in. Others are denying that any such revolution is
anything other than make-believe. The last group in earlier centuries would
have been members of the Flat Earth Society.
What is the revolution? The evolution of computers over the last seventy
years to the position today where they now offer computer generated envi-
ronments in learning and forms of communication with almost anyone in
the world instantaneously. In the vanguard of this revolution are the young
people themselves, including those of school age, who are deriving intense
levels of intellectual stimulation (verified by brain research) from playing
games on computers with others or on their own, which exceed in levels of
enjoyment, stimulus and depth of learning anything that they encounter in
the traditional classroom, which they tolerate more or less passively as their
daily lot at school.
A long way behind them are the teachers, the parents and educational-
ists. They understand something of the revolution, and many are excited
about it. But very few of them really ‘get it’. They will be carried forward,
more or less willingly, by the young people in the vanguard. They may even
get to enjoy the revolution, and to improve their own learning immeasur-
ably. At the back are the politicians, the civil servants, the union leaders
and the university professors. They are the people, above all the politicians,
who are determining the shape and purpose of the school system. Yet, as
Sara de Freitas points out in this book, there is a danger ‘where the political
need of the education system to demonstrate its success by its own mea-
sures, outweighs or ignores the needs of the learner for a rich, unlimited
and enjoyable learning experience’.
The world over, governments are using computer technology, not to
liberate schools but to enslave them. They do so in a ferocious drive to
improve exam performance, the like of which has never been seen before
in the history of the world. They say they are motivated by a concern to
improve educational attainment, above all for the least advantaged, and
many are sincere in that wish. But they are equally motivated by their own
xviii Foreword
needs to boast of year-on-year improvement in exam performance, and
improvement in world league tables against competitor nations. The needs
of the teacher, still more the student, can be squeezed out, depersonalised in
a mechanised national factory education system. de Freitas points out that
evidence of things going awry are when ‘a nation’s official school grades
[are] steadily improving across the board (that is a government’s mission
is accomplished) but universities and employers—when testing individuals
independently from the state system—[are] noting a decline in or deficit of
key skills’. Ever more precise curriculum specifications, and ever more rigor-
ous inspection regimes, might work for the politicians and administrators.
They might work less well for the school, the teacher and the student.
Digital technology is transforming higher education in the second decade
of the 21st century. The four core activities that universities exist to provide
can all be done better or as well with the new technology. Why would any
student want to go to a lecture at their university which is a passive experi-
ence when they could listen to the world authority on the same subject give
a lecture on their own screen, freezing the frame to take notes or cross ref-
erence? Why would any student go to a university library when the books
and articles are available on their own screen, and they can use multiple
references far more readily? Why go to seminars when MOOCs (Massive
Open Online Courses) provided by Coursera and others can connect them
with fellow students across the world? Why even sit tests and exams in
universities, the fi nal ‘hard’ attribute of higher education, when computers
provide far more personalised and valuable learn-and-test opportunities to
learn deeply where they are going wrong and how to improve?
Computers will revolutionize schools in the same way in the third decade
of this century that they are revolutionising universities in the second
decade. As this book so clearly shows, the education system has to change,
because the methods of teaching and the methods of learning will never
be the same again. We cannot ‘un-invent’ the computer, nor can we wish
computer generated environments would go away. What is really exciting
given Moore’s Law (i.e. computing power is doubling roughly every eigh-
teen months) is that we are in the mere foothills of seeing how computers
will transform learning and teaching. Not the least of their benefits is indi-
vidualised as well as social learning, active rather than passive learning,
and the experience akin to that of a memorable field trip rather than of an
inert classroom.
None of us knows where this journey will end; there are plenty of pitfalls
along the way, not the least the need to develop our young people ethically
and physically, as well as intellectually. But this book provides as good a
map to the future as one can wish for in this rapidly evolving world.

Dr Anthony Seldon, Master of Wellington College

Preface

The inspiration for this book fi rst came to me about ten years ago when I
was working at Birkbeck College in London, in the early years of the new
century. At that time, it seemed to me that there was a tantalising sense
of convergence between some of the cross-disciplinary research that I was
both conducting and reviewing as part of my work for the College. My
work and research at Birkbeck involved numerous studies which looked
at the fi rst attempts to create computer based learning models (e-learning)
and computer based educational games. As a result, I found myself look-
ing ever more closely at the role of play in education, at the early studies of
computer generated training simulations and at a raft of work advocating
new approaches to the ways in which people learn.
Firstly, what seemed to be emerging from the research into play at that
time was a step change in our understanding of the role of play in education.
For most of the twentieth century, fi rm and somewhat Victorian attitudes
to play—what play is, what play is for and when we can or should play—
prevailed in most formal education systems. These attitudes to play rested
on notions of purely recreational pursuits or leisurely diversions, with a
very clear situational and functional demarcation between playground and
classroom and a formal differentiation of games and studies. However, the
contemporary cross-disciplinary research at the turn of the new century
seemed to be confi rming that play is, behaviourally speaking, primarily a
form of learning. That is, play is a way of learning how to do something by
rehearsing or simulating behaviours, tactics or actions, in a way that does
not have adverse or lethal real-life consequences.
At that time, new computer based training simulators were increasingly
being used by the military and industrial sectors for exactly this type of
learning, that is, training individuals and groups without the risk of harm
to the trainees or their equipment. And notably, some of these training sim-
ulators—think combat or fl ight simulators—began to be marketed as rec-
reational computer games and were proving themselves to be both highly
popular and highly profitable. However, these simulator games that were
being produced and played for recreational and leisure purposes were still
 Another Random Document on
Scribd Without Any Related Topics
midst of the green beauty, it was covered to the water’s edge with
blooming shrubbery, which, this evening, was luminous with the light
of lamps. The radiance, glinting through the foliage, tinted the
atmosphere above it with mellow rays, and seemed the visible
presence of enchantment.
The humid night breeze blew softly under the raised walls of the
pavilion, within which, in a hammock that swung to and fro regularly
as the chinampa obeyed the waves, lay Tula and Nenetzin.
They were both beautiful, but different in their beauty. Tula’s face
was round and of a transparent olive complexion, without being fair;
her eyes were hazel, large, clear, and full of melancholy earnestness;
masses of black hair, evenly parted, fell over her temples, and were
gathered behind in a simple knot; with a tall, full form, her presence
and manner were grave and very queenly. Whereas, Nenetzin’s eyes,
though dark, were bright with the light of laughter; her voice was
low and sweet, and her manner that of a hoyden. One was the noble
woman, the other a jocund child.
“It is late, Tula; our father may want us. Let us return.”
“Be patient a little longer. The ’tzin will come for us; he promised to,
and you know he never forgets.”
“Patience, sister! Ah! you may say it, you who know; but how am I
to practise it,—I, who have only a hope?”
“What do you mean, Nenetzin?”
The girl leaned back, and struck a suspended hoop, in which was
perched a large parrot. The touch, though light, interrupted the
pendulous motion of the bird, and it pecked at her hand, uttering a
gruff scream of rage.
“You spoke of something I know, and you hope. What do you mean,
child?”
Nenetzin withdrew her hand from the perch, looked in the
questioner’s face, then crept up to win her embrace.
“O Tula, I know you are learned and thoughtful. Often after the
banquet, when the hall was cleared, and the music begun, have I
seen you stand apart, silent, while all others danced or laughed.
See, your eyes are on me now, but more in thought than love. O,
indeed, you are wise! Tell me, did you ever think of me as a
woman?”
The smile deepened on the lips, and burned in the eyes of the
queenly auditor.
“No, never as a woman,” continued Nenetzin. “Listen to me, Tula.
The other night I was asleep in your arms,—I felt them in love
around me,—and I dreamed so strangely.”
“Of what?” asked Tula, seeing she hesitated.
“I dreamed there entered at the palace door a being with a
countenance white like snow, while its hair and beard were yellow,
like the silk of the maize; its eyes were blue, like the deep water of
the lake, but bright, so bright that they terrified while they charmed
me. Thinking of it now, O Tula, it was a man, though it looked like a
god. He entered at the palace door, and came into the great
chamber where our father sat with his chiefs; but he came not
barefooted and in nequen; he spoke as he were master, and our
father a slave. Looking and listening, a feeling thrilled me,—thrilled
warm and deep, and was a sense of joy, like a blessing of Tlalac.
Since then, though I have acted as a girl, I have felt as a woman.”
“Very strange, indeed, Nenetzin!” said Tula, playfully. “But you
forget: I asked you what I know, and you only hope?”
“I will explain directly; but as you are wise, first tell me what that
feeling was.”
“Nay, I can tell you whence the water flows, but I cannot tell you
what it is.”
“Well, since then I have had a hope—”
“Well?”
“A hope of seeing the white face and blue eyes.”
“I begin to understand you, Nenetzin. But go on: what is it I know?”
“What I dreamed,—a great warrior, who loves you. You will see him
to-night, and then, O Tula,—then you may tell of the feeling that
thrilled me so in my dream.”
And with a blush and a laugh, she laid her face in Tula’s bosom.
Both were silent awhile, Nenetzin with her face hidden, and Tula
looking wistfully up at the parrot swinging lazily in the perch. The
dream was singular, and made an impression on the mind of the one
as it had on the heart of the other.
“Look up, O Nenetzin!” said Tula, after a while. “Look up, and I will
tell you something that has seemed as strange to me as the dream
to you.”
The girl raised her head.
“Did you ever see Mualox, the old paba of Quetzal’? No? Well, he is
said to be a prophet; a look of his will make a warrior tremble. He is
the friend of Guatamozin, who always goes to his shrine to worship
the god. I went there once to make an offering. I climbed the steps,
went in where the image is, laid my gift on the altar, and turned to
depart, when a man came and stood by the door, wearing a surplice,
and with long, flowing white beard. He looked at me, then bowed,
and kissed the pavement at my feet. I shrank away. ‘Fear not, O
Tula!’ he said. ‘I bow to you, not for what you are, but for what you
shall be. You shall be queen in your father’s palace!’ With that he
arose, and left me to descend.”
“Said he so? How did he know you were Tula, the king’s daughter?”
“That is part of the mystery. I never saw him before; nor, until I told
the story to the ’tzin, did I know the paba. Now, O sister, can the
believer of a dream refuse to believe a priest and prophet?”
“A queen! You a queen! I will kiss you now, and pray for you then.”
And they threw their arms lovingly around each other.
Then the bird above them awoke, and, with a fluttering of its scarlet
wings, cried, “Guatamo! Guatamo!”—taught it by the patient love of
Tula.
“O, what a time that will be!” Nenetzin went on, with sparkling eyes.
“What a garden we will make of Anahuac! How happy we shall be!
None but the brave and beautiful shall come around us; for you will
be queen, my Tula.”
“Yes; and Nenetzin shall have a lord, he whom she loves best, for
she will be as peerless as I am powerful,” answered Tula, humoring
the mood. “Whom will she take? Let us decide now,—there are so
many to choose from. What says she to Cacama, lord of Tezcuco?”
The girl made no answer.
“There is the lord of Chinantla, once a king, who has already asked
our father for a wife.”
Still Nenetzin was silent.
“Neither of them! Then there are left but the lord of Tlacopan, and
Iztlil’, the Tezcucan.”
At the mention of the last name, a strong expression of disgust burst
from Nenetzin.
“A tiger from the museum first! It could be taught to love me. No,
none of them for me; none, Tula, if you let me have my way, but the
white face and blue eyes I saw in my dream.”
“You are mad, Nenetzin. That was a god, not a man.”
“All the better, Tula! The god will forgive me for loving him.”
Before Tula spoke again, Guatamozin stepped within the pavilion.
Nenetzin was noisy in expressing her gladness, while the elder sister
betrayed no feeling by words; only her smile and the glow of her
eyes intensified.
The ’tzin sat down by the hammock, and with his strong hand
staying its oscillation, talked lightly. As yet Tula knew nothing of the
proposal of the Tezcucan, or of the favor the king had given it; but
the ken of love is as acute as an angel’s; sorrow of the cherished
heart cannot be hidden from it; so in his very jests she detected a
trouble; but, thinking it had relation to the condition of the Empire,
she asked nothing, while he, loath to disturb her happiness,
counselled darkly of his own soul.
After a while, as Nenetzin prayed to return to the city, they left the
pavilion; and, following a little path through the teeming shrubbery,
and under the boughs of orange-trees, overarched like an arbor,
they came to the ’tzin’s canoe. The keeper of the chinampa was
there with great bundles of flowers. Tula and Nenetzin entered the
vessel; then was the time for the slave; so he threw in the bundles
until they were nearly buried under them,—his gifts of love and
allegiance. When the rowers pushed off, he knelt with his face to the
earth.
Gliding homeward through the dusk, Guatamozin told the story of
Yeteve; and Tula, moved by the girl’s devotion, consented to take
her into service,—at least, until the temple claimed its own.
 CHAPTER VII
COURT GOSSIP

“A pinch of your snuff, Xoli! To be out thus early dulls a nice brain,
which nothing clarifies like snuff. By the way, it is very strange that
when one wants a good article of any kind, he can only get it at the
palace or of you. So, a pinch, my fat fellow!”
“I can commend my snuff,” said the Chalcan, bowing very low, “only
a little less than the good taste of the most noble Maxtla.”
While speaking,—the scene being in his pulque room,—he uncovered
a gilded jar sitting upon the counter.
“Help yourself; it is good to sneeze.”
Maxtla snuffed the scented drug freely, then rushed to the door, and
through eyes misty with tears of pleasure looked at the sun rising
over the mountains. A fit of sneezing seized him, at the end of
which, a slave stood by his elbow with a ewer of water and a napkin.
He bathed his face. Altogether, it was apparent that sneezing had
been reduced to an Aztec science.
“Elegant! By the Sun, I feel inspired!”
“No doubt,” responded the Chalcan. “Such ought to be the effect of
tobacco and rose-leaves, moistened with dew. But tell me; that
tilmatli you are wearing is quite royal,—is it from the king?”
The young chief raised the folds of the mantle of plumaje, which he
was sporting for the first time. “From the king? No; my tailor has
just finished it.”
“Certainly, my lord. How dull I was! You are preparing for the
banquet at the palace to-morrow night.”
“You recollect the two thousand quills of gold I bid for your priestess
the other evening,” said Maxtla, paying no attention to the remark.
“I concluded to change the investment; they are all in that collar and
loop.”
Xoli examined the loop.
“A chalchuite! What jeweller in the city could sell you one so rich?”
“Not one. I bought it of Cacama. It is a crown jewel of Tezcuco.”
“You were lucky, my lord. But, if you will allow me, what became of
the priestess? Saw you ever such dancing?”
“You are late inquiring, Chalcan. The beggar was fast by starvation
that night; but you were nearer death. The story was told the king,
—ah! you turn pale. Well you may,—and he swore, by the fires of
the temple, if the girl had been sold he would have flayed alive both
buyer and seller. Hereafter we had both better look more closely to
the law.”
“But she moved my pity as it was never moved before; moreover,
she told me they had discharged her from the temple.”
“No matter; the peril is over, and our hearts are our own. Yesterday I
saw her in the train of the princess Tula. The ’tzin cared for her. But
speaking of the princess,—the banquet to-morrow night will be
spicy.”
The Chalcan dropped the precious loop. Gossip that concerned the
court was one of his special weaknesses.
“You know,” continued Maxtla, “that the ’tzin has always been a
favorite of the king’s—”
“As he always deserved to be.”
“Not so fast, Chalcan! Keep your praise. You ought to know that
nothing is so fickle as fortune; that what was most popular
yesterday may be most unpopular to-day. Hear me out. You also
know that Iztlil’, the Tezcucan, was down in the royal estimation
quite as much as the ’tzin was up; on which account, more than
anything else, he lost his father’s city.”
Xoli rested his elbow on the counter, and listened eagerly.
“It has been agreed on all sides for years,” continued Maxtla, in his
modulated voice, “that the ’tzin and Tula were to be married upon
her coming of age. No one else has presumed to pay her court, lest
it might be an interference. Now, the whole thing is at an end. Iztlil’,
not the ’tzin, is the fortunate man.”
“Iztlil’! And to-morrow night!”
“The palace was alive last evening as with a swarming of bees.
Some were indignant,—all astonished. In fact, Xoli, I believe the ’tzin
had as many friends as the king. Several courtiers openly defended
him, notwithstanding his fall,—something that, to my knowledge,
never happened before. The upshot was, that a herald went in state
to Iztapalapan with a decree prohibiting the ’tzin from visiting
Tenochtitlan, under any pretence, until the further pleasure of the
king is made known to him.”
“Banished, banished! But that the noble Maxtla told me, I could not
believe what I hear.”
“Certainly. The affair is mysterious, as were the means by which the
result was brought about. Look you, Chalcan: the ’tzin loved the
princess, and was contracted to her, and now comes this banishment
just the day before the valley is called to witness her betrothal to the
Tezcucan. Certainly, it would ill become the ’tzin to be a guest at
such a banquet.”
“I understand,” said Xoli, with a cunning smile. “It was to save his
pride that he was banished.”
“If to be a Chalcan is to be so stupid, I thank the gods for making
me what I am!” cried Maxtla, impatiently. “What cares the great king
for the pride of the enemy he would humble! The banishment is a
penalty,—it is ruin.”
There was a pause, during which the Chalcan hung his head.
“Ah, Xoli! The king has changed; he used to be a warrior, loving
warriors as the eagle loves its young. Now—alas! I dare not speak.
Time was when no envious-hearted knave could have made him
believe that Guatamozin was hatching treason in his garden at
Iztapalapan. Now, surrounded by mewling priests, he sits in the
depths of his palace, and trembles, and, like a credulous child,
believes everything. ‘Woe is Tenochtitlan!’ said Mualox; and the days
strengthen the prophecy. But enough,—more than enough! Hist,
Chalcan! What I have said and you listened to—yea, the mere
listening—would suffice, if told in the right ears, to send us both
straightway to the tigers. I have paid you for your snuff, and the
divine sneeze. In retailing, recollect, I am not the manufacturer.
Farewell.”
“Stay a moment, most noble chief,—but a moment,” said the
Chalcan. “I have invented a drink which I desire you to inaugurate.
If I may be counted a judge, it is fit for a god.”
“A judge! You? Where is the man who would deny you that
excellence? Your days have been spent in the practice; nay, your
whole life has been one long, long drink. Make haste. I will wager
pulque is chief in the compound.”
The broker went out, and directly returned, bearing on a waiter a
Cholulan goblet full of cool liquor, exquisitely colored with the rich
blood of the cactus apple. Maxtla sipped, drank, then swore the
drink was without a rival.
“Look you, Chalcan. They say we are indebted to our heroes, our
minstrels, and our priests, and I believe so; but hereafter I shall go
farther in the faith. This drink is worth a victory, is pleasant as a
song, and has all the virtues of a prayer. Do not laugh. I am in
earnest. You shall be canonized with the best of them. To show that
I am no vain boaster, you shall come to the banquet to-morrow, and
the king shall thank you. Put on your best tilmatli, and above all
else, beware that the vase holding this liquor is not empty when I
call for it. Farewell!”
 CHAPTER VIII
GUATAMOZIN AND MUALOX

Up the steps of the old Cû of Quetzal’, early in the evening of the

banquet, went Guatamozin unattended. As the royal interdiction
rested upon his coming to the capital, he was muffled in a priestly
garb, which hid his face and person, but could not all disguise the
stately bearing that so distinguished him. Climbing the steps slowly,
and without halting at the top to note the signs of the city, all astir
with life, he crossed the azoteas, entered the chamber most
sanctified by the presence of the god, and before the image bowed
awhile in prayer. Soon Mualox came in.
“Ask anything that is not evil, O best beloved of Quetzal’, and it shall
be granted,” said the paba, solemnly, laying a hand upon the visitor’s
shoulder. “I knew you were coming; I saw you on the lake. Arise, my
son.”
Guatamozin stood up, and flung back his hood.
“The house is holy, Mualox, and I have come to speak of the things
of life that have little to do with religion.”
“That is not possible. Everything has to do with life, which has all to
do with heaven. Speak out. This presence will keep you wise; if your
thoughts be of wrong, it is not likely you will give them speech in the
very ear of Quetzal’.”
Slowly the ’tzin then said,—
“Thanks, father. In what I have to say, I will be brief, and endeavor
not to forget the presence. You love me, and I am come for counsel.
You know how often those most discreet in the affairs of others are
foolish in what concerns themselves. Long time ago you taught me
the importance of knowledge; how it was the divine secret of
happiness, and stronger than a spear to win victories, and better in
danger than a shield seven times quilted. Now I have come to say
that my habits of study have brought evil upon me; out of the
solitude in which I was toiling to lay up a great knowledge, a
misfortune has arisen, father to my ruin. My stay at home has been
misconstrued. Enemies have said I loved books less than power;
they charge that in the quiet of my gardens I have been taking
council of my ambition, which nothing satisfies but the throne; and
so they have estranged from me the love of the king. Here against
his order, forbidden the city,”—and as he spoke he raised his head
proudly,—“forbidden the city, behold me, paba, a banished man!”
Mualox smiled, and grim satisfaction was in the smile.
“If you seek sympathy,” he said, “the errand is fruitless. I have no
sorrow for what you call your misfortune.”
“Let me understand you, father.”
“I repeat, I have no sorrow for you. Why should I? I see you as you
should see yourself. You confirm the lessons of which you complain.
Not vainly that you wrought in solitude for knowledge, which, while I
knew it would make you a mark for even kingly envy, I also intended
should make you superior to misfortunes and kings. Understand you
now? What matters that you are maligned? What is banishment?
They only liken you the more to Quetzal’, whose coming triumph,—
heed me well, O ’tzin,—whose coming triumph shall be your
triumph.”
The look and voice of the holy man were those of one with authority.
“For this time,” he continued, “and others like it, yet to come, I
thought to arm your soul with a strong intelligence. Your life is to be
a battle against evil; fail not yourself in the beginning. Success will
be equal to your wisdom and courage. But your story was not all
told.”
The ’tzin’s face flushed, and he replied, with some faltering,—
“You have known and encouraged the love I bear the princess Tula,
and counted on it as the means of some great fortune in store for
me. Yet, in part at least, I am banished on that account. O Mualox,
the banquet which the king holds to-night is to make public the
betrothal of Tula to Iztlil’, the Tezcucan!”
“Well, what do you intend?”
“Nothing. Had the trouble been a friend’s, I might have advised him;
but being my own, I have no confidence in myself. I repose on your
discretion and friendship.”
Mualox softened his manner, and said, pleasantly at first, “O ’tzin, is
humanity all frailty? Must chief and philosopher bow to the passion,
like a slave or a dealer in wares?” Suddenly he became serious; his
eyes shone full of the magnetism he used so often and so well. “Can
Guatamozin find nothing higher to occupy his mind than a trouble
born of a silly love? Unmanned by such a trifle? Arouse! Ponder the
mightier interests in peril! What is a woman, with all a lover’s gild
about her, to the nation?”
“The nation?” repeated the ’tzin, slowly.
The paba looked reverently up to the idol. “I have withdrawn from
the world, I live but for Quetzal’ and Anahuac. O, generously has the
god repaid me! He has given me to look out upon the future; all that
is to come affecting my country he has shown me.” Turning to the
’tzin again, he said with emphasis, “I could tell marvels,—let this
content you: words cannot paint the danger impending over our
country, over Anahuac, the beautiful and beloved; her existence, and
the glory and power that make her so worthy love like ours, are
linked to your action. Your fate, O ’tzin, and hers, and that of the
many nations, are one and the same. Accept the words as a
prophecy; wear them in memory; and when, as now, you are moved
by a trifling fear or anger, they should and will keep you from shame
and folly.”
Both then became silent. The paba might have been observing the
events of the future, as, one by one, they rose and passed before
his abstracted vision. Certain it was, with the thoughts of the warrior
there mixed an ambition no longer selfish, but all his country’s.
Mualox finally concluded. “The future belongs to the gods; only the
present is ours. Of that let us think. Admit your troubles worthy
vengeance: dare you tell me what you thought of doing? My son,
why are you here?”
“Does my father seek to mortify me?”
“Would the ’tzin have me encourage folly, if not worse? And that in
the presence of my god and his?”
“Speak plainly, Mualox.”
“So I will. Obey the king. Go not to the palace to-night. If the
thought of giving the woman to another is so hard, could you
endure the sight? Think: if present, what could you do to prevent
the betrothal?”
A savage anger flashed from the ’tzin’s face, and he answered,
“What could I? Slay the Tezcucan on the step of the throne, though I
died!”
“It would come to that. And Anahuac! What then of her?” said
Mualox, in a voice of exceeding sorrow.
The love the warrior bore his country at that moment surpassed all
others, and his rage passed away.
“True, most true! If it should be as you say, that my destiny—”
“If! O ’tzin, if you live! If Anahuac lives! If there are gods!—”
“Enough, Mualox! I know what you would say. Content you; I give
you all faith. The wrong that tortures me is not altogether that the
woman is to be given to another; her memory I could pluck from my
heart as a feather from my helm. If that were all, I could curse the
fate, and submit; but there is more: for the sake of a cowardly policy
I have been put to shame; treachery and treason have been
crowned, loyalty and blood disgraced. Hear me, father! After the
decree of interdiction was served upon me, I ventured to send a
messenger to the king, and he was spurned from the palace. Next
went the lord Cuitlahua, uncle of mine, and true lover of Anahuac;
he was forbidden the mention of my name. I am not withdrawn from
the world; my pride will not down at a word; so wronged, I cannot
reason; therefore I am here.”
“And the coming is a breach of duty; the risk is great. Return to
Iztapalapan before the midnight is out. And I,—but you do not
know, my son, what a fortune has befallen me.” The paba smiled
faintly. “I have been promoted to the palace; I am a councillor at the
royal table.”
“A councillor! You, father?”
The good man’s face grew serious again. “I accepted the
appointment, thinking good might result. But, alas! the hope was
vain. Montezuma, once so wise, is past counsel. He will take no
guidance. And what a vanity! O ’tzin, the asking me to the palace
was itself a crime, since it was to make me a weapon in his hand
with which to resist the holy Quetzal’. As though I could not see the
design!”
He laughed scornfully, and then said, “But be not detained, my son.
What I can, I will do for you; at the council-table, and elsewhere, as
opportunity may offer, I will exert my influence for your restoration
to the city and palace. Go now. Farewell; peace be with you. To-
morrow I will send you tidings.”
Thereupon he went out of the tower, and down into the temple.
 CHAPTER IX
A KING’S BANQUET

At last the evening of the royal banquet arrived,—theme of incessant

talk and object of preparation for two days and a night, out of the
capital no less than in it; for all the nobler classes within a
convenient radius of the lake had been bidden, and, with them,
people of distinction, such as successful artists, artisans, and
merchants.
It is not to be supposed that a king of Montezuma’s subtlety in
matters governmental could overlook the importance of the social
element, or neglect it. Education imports a society; more yet,
academies, such as were in Tenochtitlan for the culture of women,
always import a refined and cultivated society. And such there was in
the beautiful valley.
My picture of the entertainment will be feeble, I know, and I give it
rather as a suggestion of the reality, which was gorgeous enough to
be interesting to any nursling even of the court of His Most Catholic
Majesty; for, though heathen in religion, Montezuma was not
altogether barbarian in taste; and, sooth to say, no monarch in
Christendom better understood the influence of kingliness splendidly
maintained. About it, moreover, was all that makes chivalry adorable,
—the dance, the feast, the wassail; brave men, fair women, and the
majesty of royalty in state amidst its most absolute proofs of power.
On such occasions it was the custom of the great king to throw open
the palace, with all its accompaniments, for the delight of his guests,
admitting them freely to aviary, menagerie, and garden, the latter
itself spacious enough for the recreation of thirty thousand persons.
The house, it must be remembered, formed a vast square, with
patios or court-yards in the interior, around which the rooms were
ranged. The part devoted to domestic uses was magnificently
furnished. Another very considerable portion was necessary to the
state and high duties of the monarch; such were offices for his
functionaries, quarters for his guards, and chambers for the safe
deposit of the archives of the Empire, consisting of maps, laws,
decrees and proclamations, accounts and reports financial and
military, and the accumulated trophies of campaigns and conquests
innumerable. When we consider the regard in which the king was
held by his people, amounting almost to worship, and their curiosity
to see all that pertained to his establishment, an idea may be formed
of what the palace and its appurtenances were as accessaries to one
of his entertainments.
Passing from the endless succession of rooms, the visitor might go
into the garden, where the walks were freshly strewn with shells, the
shrubbery studded with colored lamps, the fountains all at play, and
the air loaded with the perfume of flowers, which were an Aztec
passion, and seemed everywhere a part of everything.
And all this convenience and splendor was not wasted upon an
inappreciative horde,—ferocious Caribs or simple children of
Hispaniola. At such times the order requiring the wearing of nequen
was suspended; so that in the matter of costume there were no
limits upon the guest, except such as were prescribed by his taste or
condition. In the animated current that swept from room to room
and from house to garden might be seen citizens in plain attire, and
warriors arrayed in regalia which permitted all dazzling colors, and
pabas hooded, surpliced, and gowned, brooding darkly even there,
and stoled minstrels, with their harps, and pages, gay as butterflies,
while over all was the beauty of the presence of lovely women.
Yet, withal, the presence of Montezuma was more attractive than the
calm night in the garden; neither stars, nor perfumed summer airs,
nor singing fountains, nor walks strewn with shells, nor chant of
minstrels could keep the guests from the great hall where he sat in
state; so that it was alike the centre of all coming and all going.
There the aged and sedate whiled away the hours in conversation;
the young danced, laughed, and were happy; and in the common
joyousness none exceeded the beauties of the harem, transiently
released from the jealous thraldom that made the palace their
prison.
From the house-tops, or from the dykes, or out on the water, the
common people of the capital, in vast multitudes, witnessed the
coming of the guests across the lake. The rivalry of the great lords
and families was at all times extravagant in the matter of pomp and
show; a king’s banquet, however, seemed its special opportunity,
and the lake its particular field of display. The king Cacama, for
example, left his city in a canoe of exquisite workmanship, pranked
with pennons, ribbons, and garlands; behind him, or at his right and
left, constantly ploying and deploying, attended a flotilla of hundreds
of canoes only a little less rich in decoration than his own, and timed
in every movement, even that of the paddles, by the music of conch-
shells and tambours; yet princely as the turn-out was, it did not
exceed that of the lord Cuitlahua, governor of Iztapalapan. And if
others were inferior to them in extravagance, nevertheless they
helped clothe the beloved sea with a beauty and interest scarcely to
be imagined by people who never witnessed or read of the grand
Venetian pageants.
Arrived at the capital, the younger warriors proceeded to the palace
afoot; while the matrons and maids, and the older and more
dignified lords, were borne thither in palanquins. By evening the
whole were assembled.
About the second quarter of the night two men came up the great
street to the palace, and made their way through the palanquins
stationed there in waiting. They were guests; so their garbs bespoke
them. One wore the gown and carried the harp of a minstrel; very
white locks escaped from his hood, and a staff was required to assist
his enfeebled steps. The other was younger, and with consistent
vanity sported a military costume. To say the truth, his extremely
warlike demeanor lost nothing by the flash of a dauntless eye and a
step that made the pave ring again.
An official received them at the door, and, by request, conducted
them to the garden.
“This is indeed royal!” the warrior said to the minstrel. “It bewilders
me. Be yours the lead.”
“I know the walks as a deer his paths, or a bird the brake that
shelters its mate. Come,” and the voice was strangely firm for one so
aged,—“come, let us see the company.”
Now and then they passed ladies, escorted by gallants, and
frequently there were pauses to send second looks after the
handsome soldier, and words of pity for his feeble companion. By
and by, coming to an intersection of the walk they were pursuing,
they were hailed,—“Stay, minstrel, and give us a song.”
By the door of a summer-house they saw, upon stopping, a girl
whose beauty was worthy the tribute she sought. The elder sat
down upon a bench and replied,—
“A song is gentle medicine for sorrows. Have you such? You are very
young.”
Her look of sympathy gave place to one of surprise.
“I would I were assured that minstrelsy is your proper calling.”
“You doubt it! Here is my harp: a soldier is known by his shield.”
“But I have heard your voice before,” she persisted.
“The children of Tenochtitlan, and many who are old now, have
heard me sing.”
“But I am a Chalcan.”
“I have sung in Chalco.”
“May I ask your name?”
“There are many streets in the city, and on each they call me
differently.”
The girl was still perplexed.
“Minstrels have patrons,” she said, directly, “who—”
“Nay, child, this soldier here is all the friend I have.”
Some one then threw aside the vine that draped the door. While the
minstrel looked to see who the intruder was, his inquisitor gazed at
the soldier, who, on his part, saw neither of them; he was making an
obeisance so very low that his face and hand both touched the
ground.
“Does the minstrel intend to sing, Yeteve?” asked Nenetzin, stepping
into the light that flooded the walk.
The old man bent forward on his seat.
“Heaven’s best blessing on the child of the king! It should be a
nobler hand than mine that strikes a string to one so beautiful.”
The comely princess replied, her face beaming with pleasure, “Verily,
minstrel, much familiarity with song has given you courtly speech.”
“I have courtly friends, and only borrow their words. This place is
fair, but to my dull fancy it seems that a maiden would prefer the
great hall, unless she has a grief to indulge.”
“O, I have a great grief,” she returned; “though I do borrow it as you
your words.”
“Then you love some one who is unhappy. I understand. Is this child
in your service?” he asked, looking at Yeteve.
“Call it mine. She loves me well enough to serve me.”
The minstrel struck the strings of his harp softly, as if commencing a
mournful story.
“I have a friend,” he said, “a prince and warrior, whose presence
here is banned. He sits in his palace to-night, and is visited by
thoughts such as make men old in their youth. He has seen much of
life, and won fame, but is fast finding that glory does not sweeten
misfortune, and that of all things, ingratitude is the most bitter. His
heart is set upon a noble woman; and now, when his love is
strongest, he is separated from her, and may not say farewell. O, it
is not in the ear of a true woman that lover so unhappy could
breathe his story in vain. What would the princess Nenetzin do, if
she knew a service of hers might soothe his great grief?”
Nenetzin’s eyes were dewy with tears.
“Good minstrel, I know the story; it is the ’tzin’s. Are you a friend of
his?”
“His true friend. I bring his farewell to Tula.”
“I will serve him.” And, stepping to the old man, she laid her hand
on his. “Tell me what to do, and what you would have.”
“Only a moment’s speech with her.”
“With Tula?”
“A moment to say the farewell he cannot. Go to the palace, and tell
her what I seek. I will follow directly. Tell her she may know me in
the throng by these locks, whose whiteness will prove my sincerity
and devotion. And further, I will twine my harp with a branch of this
vine; its leaves will mark me, and at the same time tell her that his
love is green as in the day a king’s smile sunned it into ripeness. Be
quick. The moment comes when she cannot in honor listen to the
message I am to speak.”
He bent over his harp again, and Nenetzin and Yeteve hurried away.
 CHAPTER X
THE ’TZIN’S LOVE

The minstrel stayed a while to dress his harp with the vine.
“A woman would have done it better; they have a special cunning
for such things; yet it will serve the purpose. Now let us on!” he
said, when the task was finished.
To the palace they then turned their steps. As they approached it,
the walk became more crowded with guests. Several times the
minstrel was petitioned to stay and sing, but he excused himself. He
proceeded, looking steadily at the ground, as is the custom of the
very aged. Amongst others, they met Maxtla, gay in his trappings as
a parrot from the Great River.
“Good minstrel,” he said, “in your wanderings through the garden,
have you seen Iztlil’, the Tezcucan?”
“I have not seen the Tezcucan. I should look for him in the great
hall, where his bride is, rather than in the garden, dreaming of his
bridal.”
“Well said, uncle! I infer your harp is not carried for show; you can
sing! I will try you after a while.”
When he was gone, the minstrel spoke bitterly,—
“Beware of the thing known in the great house yonder as policy. A
week ago the lord Maxtla would have scorned to be seen hunting
the Tezcucan, whom he hates.”
They came to a portal above which, in a niche of the wall, sat the
teotl[34] of the house, grimly claiming attention and worship. Under
the portal, past the guard on duty there, through many apartments
full of objects of wonder to the stranger, they proceeded, and, at
last, with a current of guests slowly moving in the same direction,
reached the hall dominated by the king, where the minstrel thought
to find the princess Tula.
“O my friend, I pray you, let me stay here a moment,” said the
warrior, abashed by dread of the sudden introduction to the royal
presence. The singer heard not, but went on.
Standing by the door, the young stranger looked down a hall of great
depth eastwardly, broken by two rows of pillars supporting vast
oaken girders, upon which rested rafters of red cedar. The walls
were divided into panels, with borders broad and intricately
arabesqued. A massive bracket in the centre of each panel held the
image of a deity, the duplicate of the idol in the proper sanctuary;
and from the feet of the image radiated long arms of wood, well
carved, crooked upward at the elbows, and ending with shapely
hands, clasping lanterns of aguave which emitted lights of every tint.
In the central space, between the rows of pillars, immense
chandeliers dropped from the rafters, so covered with lamps that
they looked like pyramids aglow. And arms, and images, and
chandeliers, and even the huge pillars, were wreathed in garlands of
cedar boughs and flowers, from which the air drew a redolence as of
morning in a garden.
Through all these splendors, the gaze of the visitor sped to the
further end of the hall, and there stayed as charmed. He saw a
stage, bright with crimson carpeting, rising three steps above the
floor, and extending from wall to wall; and on that, covered with
green plumaje, a dais, on which, in a chair or throne glittering with
burnished gold, the king sat. Above him spread a canopy fashioned
like a broad sunshade, the staff resting on the floor behind the
throne, sustained by two full-armed warriors, who, while motionless
as statues, were yet vigilant as sentinels. Around the dais, their
costumes and personal decorations sharing the monarch’s splendor,
were collected his queens, and their children, and all who might
claim connection with the royal family. The light shone about them
as the noonday, so full that all that portion of the hall seemed
bursting with sunshine. Never satin richer than the emerald cloth of
the canopy, inwoven, as it was, with feathers of humming-birds!
Never sheen of stars, to the eyes of the wondering stranger, sharper
than the glinting of the jewels with which it was fringed!
And the king appeared in happier mood than common, though the
deep, serious look which always accompanies a great care came
often to his face. He had intervals of silence also; yet his shrewdest
guests were not permitted to see that he did not enjoy their
enjoyment.
His queens were seated at his left, Tecalco deeply troubled,
sometimes tearful, and Acatlan cold and distant; for, in thought of
her own child, the beautiful Nenetzin, she trembled before the
remorseless policy.
And Tula, next to the king the recipient of attention, sat in front of
her mother, never more queenly, never so unhappy. Compliments
came to her, and congratulations, given in courtly style; minstrels
extolled her grace and beauty, and the prowess and martial qualities
of the high-born Tezcucan; and priest and warrior laid their homage
at her feet. Yet her demeanor was not that of the glad young bride;
she never smiled, and her eyes, commonly so lustrous, were dim
and hopeless; her thoughts were with her heart, across the lake with
the banished ’tzin.
As may be conjectured, it was no easy game to steal her from place
so conspicuous; nevertheless, Nenetzin awaited the opportunity.
It happened that Maxtla was quite as anxious to get the monarch’s
ear for the benefit of his friend, the Chalcan,—in fact, for the
introduction of the latter’s newly invented drink. Experience taught
the chief when the felicitous moment arrived. He had then but to say
the word: a page was sent, the liquor brought. Montezuma sipped,
smiled, quaffed deeper, and was delighted.
“There is nothing like it!” he said. “Bring goblets for my friends, and
fill up again!”
All the lordly personages about him had then to follow his example,
—to drink and approve. At the end, Xoli was summoned.
Nenetzin saw the chance, and said, “O Tula, such a song as we have
heard! It was sweeter than that of the bird that wakes us in the
morning, sweeter than all the flutes in the hall.”
“And the singer,—who was he?”
Neither Nenetzin nor Yeteve could tell his name.
“He charmed us so,” said the former, “that we thought only of taking
you to hear him. Come, go with us. There never was such music or
musician.”
And the three came down from the platform unobserved by the king.
When the minstrel’s message was delivered, then was shown how
well the Tezcucan had spoken when he said of the royal children,
“They are all beautiful, but only one is fitted to be a warrior’s wife.”
“Let us see the man,” said Tula. “How may we know him, Nenetzin?”
And they went about eagerly looking for the singer with the gray
locks and the vine-wreathed harp. They found him at last about
midway the hall, leaning on his staff, a solitary amidst the throng. No
one thought of asking him for a song; he was too old, too like one
come from a tomb with unfashionable stories.
“Father,” said Tula, “we claim your service. You look weary, yet you
must know the ancient chants, which, though I would not like to say
it everywhere, please me best. Will you sing?”
He raised his head, and looked at her: she started. Something she
saw in his eyes that had escaped her friends.
“A song from me!” he replied, as if astonished. “No, it cannot be. I
have known some gentle hearts, and studied them to remember;
but long since they went to dust. You do not know me. Imagining
you discerned of what I was thinking, you were moved; you only
pitied me, here so desolate.”
As he talked, she recovered her composure.
“Will you sing for me, father?” she again asked.
“O willingly! My memory is not so good as it used to be; yet one
song, at least, I will give you from the numberless ills that crowd it.”
He looked slowly and tremulously around at the guests who had
followed her, or stopped, as they were passing, to hear the
conversation.
“As you say,” he then continued, “I am old and feeble, and it is
wearisome to stand here; besides, my theme will be sad, and such
as should be heard in quiet. Time was when my harp had honor,—to
me it seems but yesterday; but now—enough! Here it were not well
that my voice should be heard.”
She caught his meaning, and her whole face kindled; but Nenetzin
spoke first.
“O yes; let us to the garden!”
The minstrel bowed reverently. As they started, a woman, who had
been listening, said, “Surely, the noble Tula is not going! The man is
a dotard; he cannot sing; he is palsied.”
But they proceeded, and through the crowd and out of the hall
guided the trembling minstrel. Coming to a passage that seemed to
be deserted, they turned into it, and Nenetzin, at Tula’s request,
went back to the king. Then a change came over the good man; his
stooping left him, his step became firm, and, placing himself in front,
he said, in a deep, strong voice,—
“It is mine to lead now. I remember these halls. Once again, O Tula,
let me lead you here, as I have a thousand times in childhood.”
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