At the doorway of the last house my companion halted, and
taking me by the hand, led me into a long low room lit with lamps of
earthenware. Here some women came forward and kissed him, while others
whom I took to be servants, saluted him by touching the floor with one
hand. Soon, however, all eyes were turned on me and many eager questions
were asked of the chief, of which I could only guess the purport.
When all had gazed their fill supper was served, a rich meal of many
strange meats, and of this I was invited to partake, which I did, seated
on a mat and eating of the dishes that were placed upon the ground by
the women. Among these I noticed one girl who far surpassed all the
others in grace, though none were unpleasing to the eye. She was dark,
indeed, but her features were regular and her eyes fine. Her figure was
tall and straight, and the sweetness of her face added to the charm of
her beauty. I mention this girl here for two reasons, first because she
saved me once from sacrifice and once from torture, and secondly because
she was none other than that woman who afterwards became known as
Marina, the mistress of Cortes, without whose aid he had never conquered
Mexico. But at this time she did not guess that it was her destiny to
bring her country of Anahuac beneath the cruel yoke of the Spaniard.
From the moment of my entry I saw that Marina, as I will call her,
for her Indian name is too long to be written, took pity on my forlorn
state, and did what lay in her power to protect me from vulgar curiosity
and to minister to my wants.
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