Look! there is Cuzco over there, a city like no other in the world--did you not tell me so?
Of the people nothing.

Are they also different from all others in the world ?" "I will tell you that if you will first answer me one question, Rima." She drew a little nearer, curious to hear, but was silent.
"Promise that you will answer me," I persisted, and as she continued silent, I added: "Shall I not ask you, then ?" "Say," she murmured.
"Why do you wish to know about the people of Cuzco ?" She flashed a look at me, then averted her face.

For some moments she stood hesitating; then, coming closer, touched me on the shoulder and said softly: "Turn away, do not look at me." I obeyed, and bending so close that I felt her warm breath on my neck, she whispered: "Are the people in Cuzco like me?
Would they understand me--the things you cannot understand?
Do you know ?" Her tremulous voice betrayed her agitation, and her words, I imagined, revealed the motive of her action in bringing me to the summit of Ytaioa, and of her desire to visit and know all the various peoples inhabiting the world.

She had begun to realize, after knowing me, her isolation and unlikeness to others, and at the same time to dream that all human beings might not be unlike her and unable to understand her mysterious speech and to enter into her thoughts and feelings.
"I can answer that question, Rima," I said.

"Ah, no, poor child, there are none there like you--not one, not one.