The sun rises higher up towards the zenith


The wide waters of the arañon river slowly glide past forested beaches, the multifunctional nets of water plants wander around coal-thrown, ancient tribes, from which dark, naked branches rise above the water’s edge, like giant arms, solidified in the tropical nature of the tropical nature.

Nature lies sleeping in the sun gas, no bird flies chirping along the river – large, variegated insects swarm silently over the surface and occasionally seize a lost fly or mosquito, which sails on a detached leaf, which slowly slides forward, until it disappears in a mourning shoot. – the only disturbance of nature’s deadly silence.

It whispers in the spit; a gentle breeze crosses the river. The magnificent, colorful but fragrant flowers of the beaches bow to the mirror image 2 in the water, rise again and stare with big, surprised eyes up against a whale of palm trees, vines and everlasting leafy trees, through which here and where a flap of deep blue, shining sky looks forward.

At the beach slightly higher up, where a clearing between the trees betrays an open space, stands a tallest, heavily built, dark-skinned warrior. His costume consists of a dark cotton tunic, which reaches halfway to the knee and is coherent over the countries with a wide belt; arms and legs are naked; on the head he wears a helmet made of wood, covered with leather and adorned with feathers in rare colors; on the feet moccasins, fastened with straps, laced right up to the knee.

Blood seeps from a wound under the left arm, which is wrapped with a sieve leaf, whose hemorrhagic force has not yet worked; it has partly come loose and hangs like a wide, red stripe.

He stares with a sad expression over to the other beach, where the dark woods of primeval forest reflect themselves; beyond them, far in there lies home, freedom and future in ruins. On the other side of the water, it whispers in the spit and whispers it in the crowns – it is rock song and show from the countless lakes and the wooded rivers’ land, which he will never see again …

At the thought of the captivity, the gentle arms quiver, the hands tied, the eyes low, and the broad nostrils widen; blood flows more abundantly from his wounds.

The warrior walks a couple of steps forward and tramples down the flowers that grow here in enemy mode. With the endless suffering of a semi-civilized race, he hates this nation, which has penetrated into the settlements of his homeland, superseded and imprisoned the tribe he belonged to, and who carried it away to obey other laws in foreign countries and embrace a new doctrine.

Curse over incas, curse over this flock of slaves, who destroyed his homeland, its customs and beliefs!

He draws up an amulet, which he carries in a chain around his neck, and, with dark eyes, looks at the unwieldy image of his homeland’s god – the angry one who, in the moment of distress, praises his faithful, even to his cheerful streams of blood cast on the priests altars.

He belongs to a minority tribe at the present Bolivia border, a tribe captured by the Peruvians at the end of the fifteenth century, whose kings – incas – continually expanded their kingdom, so that at the height of its greatness covered what we now call Peru, Bolivia , Ecuador and most of Chile. The war army, 4 who returned home after six months of successful battles, camped in an open space, on the sides of the forest surrounded by forests, while the fourth slopes evenly down to the riverbed.

In this place, the conquered country’s entire population is held, which with women and children amounts to ten or twelve thousand. The prisoners school according to the incas command is brought to some less densely populated part of his kingdom, while their former land is occupied by Peruvian settlers. This approach is intended to secure the boundaries of a reliable population; The subfolds are moved to such areas of the interior, where the climate, to the extent possible, corresponds to what they were used to.

The Peruvian army has, to a number of thirty thousand men, been buried in the shade at the edge of the forest and has a vigilant eye from all sides on the prisoners, who freely move on the vast plain with their frame of forest and river.

The wounded warrior’s eyes are stuck to the crowns of the other beach, which seems to wave him back home. His desire grows and grows. Pictures of the motherland are becoming clearer for the eye of his soul. His thirst for freedom increases and evokes a leap of hope, which will speed his pulses … If he with his life, with his own blood, could appease the angry God by sacrificing himself 5 even as a final reconciliation act at his altar in the overthrow of the homeland!

He dreams to be on his way there, resting on a well-known path in the forests of his country and reaching the fate of the temple as his tribe’s resurrected resurrector.

He seizes the obnoxious godlyness and believes himself in the clumsy-shaped drama reading an encouragement but at the same time the judgment that only over his corpse goes the way to the rescue of the motherland. If he were to fail … What more? What value does the life have for him, the son of a captain without land?

He looks around. Far up on the plain, the oldest of his tribe sit soberly around his new chief, his only brother, the eldest son of the fallen. His gaze glides searching over the cluster of women and children, until it suddenly attaches itself to a young girl, who sits and stares at the trees’ vows with a sad, absent expression. “Yelva!” He whispers, and the lit glow in his eye goes out; the lips move with a painful expression, and he decides to sacrifice his secret love for the duty to the fatherland.

Silly begging sit or lie all of them, all his tribe, around extinct or smoking fireplaces. The songs of the Peruvians sound monotonous from the sun-drenched plain – the victorious singing of the homemakers.

His gaze once again slides over the big table, which he wanted to remind each other of every move, and once again linger at the young girl. Then he turns around with an expression of firm determination, takes a few steps forward, puts off the headdress, which would now be merely a hindrance, and gently slides into the man’s high sphere, which hardly moves, when the supple body works facing the stream. He intends to stay in the reeds until it darkens, and then drift down to the river.

He moves slowly forward, and he listens scouting at every step. Suddenly a bark cuts whistling through the air, and from within the beach’s piles of sounds a loud commanding sound: “Turn!” – “Turn back!” Repeat a lot of voices from the van and from the sides. The prisoner stays despondent and looks up. On this he was not prepared. To the right and left, Peruvians glimpse between the branches of the trees. They have been sitting there quietly and without betraying, how they followed his way through the saw.

He first stands in haste – but then it lies in his eyes, his decision is taken. When he does a movement to return, he sees the arrows removed from the guard’s arches – it is at this moment he counted – and he pops down quickly into the reeds.

A rain of arrows, however, soon crashes into the place where he disappeared, and fifteen to twenty warriors plunge into the water to capture the escape. Out in the stream is heard a half-pounded scream, followed by a moaning. Peruvian always accurate bows have sent the flying a warning.

The guards’ signals and cries call to the place more and more chieftains and soldiers, while the prisoners up on the plain half rise from their resting positions and badly follow the movement at the beach. An officer has taken the command down there, and soon the badly wounded warrior is brought ashore. As a wildfire, it goes through the camp that the prisoner’s brother’s brother sought to escape and be arrested.

They subdued the stream and thunder grimly, how the detached young man is bloody and shoddy worn through the camp. The cries of the young children and the women’s complaint are mixed with the loud commandments of the seamen.

The dying man is carried to one of the few trees, which occasionally grow on the plain. The soldiers drive the prisoners back, all but one – a young woman, half a child. She penetrates through the trail, throws herself in front of the dying man, and knocks her arms in disgust around him. Her grief, like her whole nature, is awesome and lifeless. Through the thin garment, which lasts only from breast to knee, one sees the young, nobly shaped 8 The body shakes and shakes, while the pinion of gold and pearl jewelry in hair, around the neck and arms accompanies her cries of pain.

The commanding Peruvian, who, with a mix of wonder and compassion, committed to the performance, seeks to separate the young woman from the warrior and at the same time seeks to calm her with some good words. The prisoner is finally taken away from her and tied to the tree; according to incas law, which is offering string and in this case hit high and low, he must immediately die.

Peruvian troops embrace on three sides instead; on the fourth, facing the river, there is only the tree with the bound. Twenty archery is commanded, the lyric word sounds, and the dying man is freed from the ferocious plagues, if the convulsions of ants and limbs before witnessed.

To the small litters on the plain have the prisoners been mute spectators to the execution, which proceeded so quickly that now a certain astonishment among them mingled with the grief – preferably they waited for a repetition of the torture, the self-plowed use against prisoners of war.

The Peruvians retreat to the edge of the forest, and the body is surrendered by an officer with a few words of word to the captives of the prisoners. The brother of the dead and the elders of the tribe stand in silent grief around the body, at whose side the young woman 9 kneeling while she puts on his head warrior helmet again, as found in the reeds …

But the oppressed shock themselves increasingly, and a scent of murmur is heard from their joints.

The equality has folded, and coarse, unarmed hands are tied in anger. The eyes are irresistibly drawn to the homeland, whose beach glitters in the sunshine. Perhaps the god, who overshadowed them, would come dragging over the wide water and give victory to a new devil’s battle! …

Eventually, the tense muscles relax, and the eyes regain their likeness; The lethargy has once again taken control, and the prisoners seek to silence their camps around the dust of the man who sacrificed himself at the last attempt to reclaim them a homeland.

On one edge of the open space stands on a hill, overshadowed by a huge oak, a tent building in the shape of a cut-off cone; The light green color of the tent fabric blends in perfectly with the greenery of the small forest. In front of the tent, two sign guards walk in the peruvian ordinary warrior suit: a white mantle, which a pair of crests were wrapped around the lands, and on one side hanging down like a broad tuft, and a cotton tunic, around the waist held by a belt; the head is protected by a leather-clad wooden helmet; the arms are bare; on the feet straps-fastened sandals. The weapons are lance and sword, arrow 10 and bow as well as battle ax and shield: all edges and capes are of copper, for steel or iron you do not know.

The tent consists of a single room, the light of which comes from above through a veil of translucent fabric, which, however, is dense enough to dispose of insects and to spread only one-half-beneficial days for the eye.

At the table in the middle of the tent is a fifty-year-old man, dressed in a costume that is similar to ordinary men, only of finer blows with intertwined gold bars. It is the commander over the army, one of the incas generals.

In front of him lies a map of incas kingdom, whose boundaries and subdivisions are marked by raised lines. Although the map – made of merged dry leaves of the maize plant – is not a masterpiece, it gives a good overview of the vast kingdom. You see Cuzco, the sacred capital, depicted as a sun, from which emanate fine rays, embedded with gold. Lake Titicaca south-east of it is excellent with a blue spot of golden edge, from which other fine gold beams meet them, emanating from Cuzco. The water in this lake, located in the heart of Peru, is sacred.

After the great flood of the sun – the punishment of the sun over the indigenous people for their sinful lives – an island in the Titicaca lake was first dried up by all places on earth. 11 There were created two incas, brother and sister, husband and wife. Of the sun, their father, they found a gold cradle and were commanded to wander to the north until it drilled into the earth. There they would stop and gather the remnants of a prejudice numerous people and learn to walk in the sun’s place, become good and righteous people, to cultivate the earth and build cities. This timed in Cuzco’s valley.

In this way, the first inca emerged as the son of the sun, the omnipotent deity of the almighty deity on earth, and his successor succeeded in submitting to the whole of Peru and neighboring land. The doctrine, the proclaimed, and their wise governance gave up a culture, which eventually united millions of people into a great society. The cannibalism of other tribal tribes and other raw customs were obliterated as they were brought under the incas ordered rule.

Across the map, almost in cross shape and with the intersection of Cuzco, two dark lines are drawn. They designate two country roads, the only significant ones in the country. One is in line with the Pacific Ocean, whose coast partly consists of a wide lowland plateau with deserts and deserted meadows between the sea and the Cordillas. The other road leads high above these mountains, slopes down to the east, goes over rivers and deep depths on suspension bridges, are in places buried in the snowflakes and have 12 masonry along scam high dumps on a foundation of rocks, which were broken out piece by piece, after the rock was made brittle by fire, and which had been plunged into the depths to disappear on the towers up to the foundation.

The map further presents a variety of circles, lighter closer to Cuzco but darkening towards the country’s border; the latter expose newly-acquired stretches, whose population has not yet fully settled in the sun’s bright kingdom.

The general has, from a sleeve, produced a fine bone bone along with some tubes of dark color, produced by plant juice. He has, during the campaign, measured the conquered land and engraved its location on the map; he now intends to finish this work by coloring the borderline.

The general is so profound in this work, even a fruit of many months of persistent struggle, that he has not noticed that the tent’s light entrances have been pulled aside and a messenger soundlessly entered; this one is now impatiently waiting, that the fieldman shall warn his presence. He belongs to the so-called chasquis or state runners. Their task is to deliver the fastest possible parts of the king’s or government’s Cuzco message. To where fourth kilometers – after contemporary measures – are small stations; between the two, the runners have to move. They run fast, and even when the road carries over mountains and valleys, they travel the distance with surprising speed. 13 These runners, who at the stations relieved each other, are all sworn, powerful young men, and enjoy in society great reputation.

The runner’s panting breath eventually attracts the general’s attention; The message that is then submitted is embedded in a maasblad, wrapped in a red thread. The sight of this thread is sufficient for the general with impatience to open the message, for the red thread indicates that the king himself is the sender – it is so incas seal and is found in the franc about the main ornament which only the master of the country is entitled to wear.

The letters look strange. Neither the script nor the imagery is known, and one is referred to either oral messages or so-called quipus. These are made up of a – by pass, sixty centimeters long – cord, formed of differently colored, tightly twisted threads, whereby a lot of shorter threads are attached as a fringe. The colors denote different things – white silver, yellow gold – and each thread can be made a certain number of knots, which then mean a certain number, a specific concept and so on.

The quipus, the king sent his victorious commander, was a brown thread with four knots; at the fourth we attached the six colors of the rainbow – the royal colors – along with a red thread 14 of the same shift as the one in which the letter was wrapped.

It does not take long before the general interprets the message. The brown thread denotes the country road, and the four knots distinguish as many day marches. Rainbow colors suggest that in the fourth resting place, inca should meet; the red thread in front of his thanks to the victorious army.

The message causes the general to fastest possible pace against the meeting place set by the king. The breakdown takes place within an hour. Tents, kitchen utensils and everything else brought along are taken care of by the store soldiers; the prisoners get where their burden according to age and forces.

The Peruvians first become ready; Raised in strict manhood and as soldiers accustomed to obeying signals, they soon took their places at the stand. Some of them help the prisoners to arrange the packing. The wounded and the sick are carried. Cargo animals are never used in their war.

The general with his staff walks quickly along the heads, the soldiers greet him with the long spears – bow and arrows hang over the shoulder, daggers, swords and battle ax are attached to the left side. Hufvudbonaden is different for different battalions, and the most distinguished troops of native from Peru have their wooden helmets overlaid 15 with copper. The shields are worn under the march on the back so that the body’s free movement is not prevented. Every battalion has its banner; they are separated by the color but have in the left corner at the top a mark, common to all the flags of the kingdom – the rainbow mark, which signifies that inca is the son of heaven.

The General has completed his patterning; he has personally convinced that everything is in order, that troops and prisoners have sufficient commitment, and that the wounded have reliable carriers. The wooden pipe blowers give the signal, the commandments sound, the crew arranges eight men in the lead, the army sets in motion, and at the same time begin thousands of singing; the notes are propagated from department to department. It is the people’s war songs that, even in happy, than in heavy speech, interpret the love of the motherland.

As an endless snake, it winds its way through the cloud of primeval forests and out on a side road to the great royal road, which here goes upwards in bays from ledge to ledge in the highlands. Lances and axes glitter in the sunshine. The song roars and sinks, dies slowly and is reflected in powerful echoes from porphyry and granite mountain sides.

Node raises amphitheatrically with mountains over mountains; between these alternating undulating corn fields with tropical rich forests; and high up to the west, the Cordillas travel their prickly pinnacles, 16 whose snow cover of the sun is transformed into a silver diadem, which crowns all of this rich fencing.

Between vertical cliffs, the river plunges, often hundreds of feet, into abysses. The suspension bridges make the Peruvian genius and energy indispensable.[A]

Deep beneath the foggy noises the river, and the foam dries up like silver splashes. But the soldiers sing higher, as they go over the bridge and seek out the noise of the rapids.

The day is known to be hot, preferably when the cows are steered up through desolate nests, where the land is only sparsely overgrown with barley plants, jarilla bushes and shabby cactus species, which shoot up to a height of four feet. The bare rocks of red granite, yes, all the flying ladybirds feel fiery. No cooling shade, no scum water. With red-swollen eyes, dried-up heavy and scorching throat, the soldiers are dragging themselves out; the song has silenced; but forward it goes – forward. The king has commanded.

The first rays of the morning sun cast gold splashes on the peaks of the sierra, and high up the condor, the king of the birds.

The shepherds wake up at their resting camps, scared with some blankets in a rock hole. The Vicuña Spring – an inexhaustible source of wealth for Peru – beta up there; they belong to all the king and must not be slaughtered or eaten by a man. They shake their wool, from whose fine threads dew drops fall, and bark their morning greetings, while the shepherds, facing the sun – the incas father – execute their devotion. Then the herd goes to a plateau, where the yellow pajonel grass shines like a golden carpet.

The sun rises higher, and its rays reach farther down the sides of the mountains, where artificial terraces bear witness to the Peruvian flit. In their places, where the slope has been too steep, dams have been made by means of rock slabs, so that the ledges thus formed resemble giant stairs. Each step is filled with soil, taken remotely from and added with fertilizers of fish and bird.

Here it is possible to cultivate everything that vegetation has from the equator to the polar circle, because the degree of heat changes with the height, and no change of seasons is felt. Potates have put blooms down the pajonel grasses and gives way in order to the maize, which has neighbors below the tobacco and cocan – a man’s tall shrub, whose leaves are dried 18 in the sun and be able to replace the tobacco, but few are only used as medicines. And down in the valleys, crowned by forests and intersected by rivers, palm trees, pineapples and bananas grow alongside the mahogany and guajue, in a wealth, as large as only the glow of the tropics.

The fragrant air abounds with feathered singers, who fill it with good sound, while the butterflies in all shifts unsettled flutter between purple flowers. Parrots, macaws, cardinal birds and legions of sparrow birds in all imaginable variegated spring screws whisper, chant, sing and tweak the new day to meeting.

A bit up the plateaus we see the people leaving their miserable huts, which here and there gathered to small towns. There are low single storey houses of sun-dried brick with room for a couple of rooms; the sloping roof is covered with straw or reeds; Cleanliness prevails inside and out. A few simple household utensils of clay, a bed bunk, a couple of chairs and a table are all that the Peruvian worker needs for his living.

The plow, with which he plows his character, is a strong, sharp-pointed pile with a crosspiece at the height of the foot from the tip; on this, the plow puts his foot to force the implement into the ground. Six to eight strong men pull the rope forward with the rope; they sing in pace during the work, and the women 19 follow in order to break the turf trunks with the rake.

At one of those stations, past which road to Cuzco goes forward, this morning a lively spectacle developed. You had the honor of hosting the king as a guest. Such stations are similar to fortresses. They lie along the entire main road at a distance of a day’s march and are more or less pre-loaded but all abundantly provided with what is required for the maintenance of the gentleman. The person in question consists of amphitheatrically arranged buildings, which shoot over each other, the more one approaches the center point.[B]

This is made up of the castle, on whose one side the incas banner, the rainbow colored, is hoisted.

It is abounding here by warriors, from governors over neighboring parts of the country and gentlemen in the court’s gala costume to ordinary men in their simple uniform. And the people of the area have flocked to see a glimpse of incan. Runners and servants back and forth, bid or bring delights from the far and wide to the king’s table.

The entire caravans of the llamas, the sole of the Peruvians, are set up in their stalls; they have transported the royal packing.

The castle is intended to house incan, when he is on a tour of the country, where he 21 takes part in and learns about everything related to its prosperity. It is the now reigning king who has erected both castles and fortresses. At his death, the entire building work is sealed, and all that your hearing is then untapped. This reverence for the remnant of the dead is based on the belief that once after death, the soul will return from the sun to regain its earthly possessions.

The interior of the castle is as magnificent as the exterior. Through cabins and corridors you get insight into numerous conveniences, all of which receive their light from the inner courtyard. The salarnes golf is made in mosaic, the walls are covered with cicellated gold and silver plates with plant motifs in clear metal – a shimmering crop that grows up from the gulf and extends its fine stems all the way to the exquisite weaves of vicuña wool with patterns in gold and silver thread. , whereby the ceilings for their entire length are hung. Benches, chairs and tables are carefully crafted in precious woods and lined with valuable quilts or precious metal. Above all a wealth, whose splendor leaves an unforgettable impression.

In these convictions, the incans nearest and his commanders bid the signal from the heroes, who, like dumb images, keep guard at the curtain of the room where the king now gives preference to his chiefs and the captive prince; the 22 hours will soon be in, when inca will show up for her victorious here.

The sun rises higher up towards the zenith. The soldiers are standing in a large half arch in front of the camp with the prisoners within their circle. These had initially looked defiantly and wildly. All of them, however, had been arrested by wonder over what they had seen; they had, in fact, been in constant amazement over what they had experienced from the day when, after valiant feud, they succumbed to the Peruvian warlist and power. Are they waiting for death now? Will the men be sacrificed on the bloody altars of the god of war, the women being scolded and the children cut to pieces for the victors? So had been their own custom. Life for Life! The pangs of the conquerors and their own jubilee songs had plenty in the home’s temple courtyard. Should they now suffer the same sentence?

The good commitment during the walk through unknown funnels, the considerate care of the wounded and tired had seemed to them as a mystery. Why hadn’t they immediately killed those who were merely trouble?

Their head had been taken to the enemy king. From the prisoners’ led, many looked for the fortress walls – would they soon see the corpse of the beloved prince’s son as a bloody trophy attached to the crest of the embankment?

Despite the thought of the fate that must understand them, it is most astonishment with the prisoners; it smokes in whispers, which blend into a scent of sorrow. Maize has been abundantly distributed among them, the wounded are connected, and the sickest have been embedded in a magazine’s cool room, where they are treated with healing herbs.

Suddenly the signals from the courtyard light up, there will be lifes in the soldiers, who during the wait had probably been so comfortable, command calls sound, the banners unfold, the gates are turned up at the fork. Servants and runners exit; their costumes are festooned with multicolored ribbons. The music of the music is heard more and more clearly. Girls and children sprinkle flowers on the road that the king should go. Now come the country’s nobility and incans brilliant staff. The great national court shines in the sun, weapons and gems lightning.

But high above the variegated collection radiates in all its grandeur under the gold-clad canopy inca, the sun’s son and deputy on the earth, caged on the jewel-filled faith of forty tallest, muscular men. After him follows a long train of warriors.

Flower rain, jubilation from tens of thousands of throats, lances and swords and variegated headgear in sway, while the train slowly advances to the center of the round, mooring.

Inca has stood up and stands in front of his troops. He is a tall, painful and beardless man in the thirties with powerful, bare arms, small hands and feet. The eyes lie in a line and have a good, friendly expression; in the ears he wears wheel-shaped pendants, which reach right down to the shoulders.

His costume is woven by finest vicuña wool, adorned with gold and precious stones; on the head, he wears a turban of multicolored fabric with two feathers of some rare bird and with pendant, scarlet fringe.

Inca looks with satisfaction over the crowd; then he makes a sign with his left hand, and a cutting signal offers silence. With a clear and strong voice, which is heard widely, he speaks:

“Troops! For half a year, since the day I commanded you farewell to the walls of Cuzco, I have turned away; The time has come for you during struggle and forgiveness, for us under tense wait and firm confidence. Thanks to the sun god’s heritage, a new glorious leaf has been added to our staples and a new country has been forced under our auspicious sprout. It is with pride and gratitude, today I welcome you again to the foster land; 25 But in the first place, my thanks go to Him, whose rays today flow more abundantly over the people he loves and wants to protect from the barbarians. My rulers have told you that he fought with bravery, and that you have not forgotten to be gentle, but firm in enemy land, to care for the sick and to chastise the rebellious, but not with revenge but with righteousness of righteousness. An enemy country, ravaged by fire and sword, became the biggest loss for us. With mildness we have won our biggest victories.

“And you” – here the king turned to the prisoners – “sons and daughters of a foreign tribe! The sun god, the Merciful, has sent you here to teach the faith that brings to the bright home of the sun. In he worshiped false gods and devoted them to bloody sacrifices, you have plundered and ravaged at the border of my kingdom, killed the sons of my land and offended its daughters. The blessing of the work has been hidden from you for you; royal airplane and laziness have stamped your family. Therefore, the hour of retaliation has now turned. You are impotent, in our violence, and we could make a bloody revenge. But our law forbids us to pay evil with evil; of the good the evil shall be driven away. Your country will now be populated by our tribes; its godly feasts and temples will remain, until your descendants once want to destroy them, saying: there is only one god, and Inca 26 is his son! This must be our revenge. In my kingdom you learn the joy of the work; it should show you the true way to human happiness. From this day on, my children and the school in me find a just father. Glommen never when regnbågsmärket lights on the bracket, the one there, seeing what I döljen for me, and I set that on earth do his will! And be so welcome in your new home country! ”

The music blew up, and there was a great deal of cheers and blows on the shields. Inca stepped down from his throne and walked among the soldiers, who all wanted to kiss his hands; for the prisoners he had encouraging words.

When he returned to the castle, the folk party began. Man sang, danced and played the day at the end, extra diet was won, and the corn brandy, the Peruvian beloved drink, flowed in streams.

But in the campfire camp there was silence. They sought vainly to become acquainted with the idea of ​​all the new, which was now awaiting. Still, when the joyful people were lit by the Peruvians, they sat down and pondered the loss of their country … The way of work to happiness – it was a dark and disturbing speech for the men.

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