By the side of Cortes, holding his stirrup in her hand, walked a
beautiful Indian woman dressed in white robes and crowned with flowers.
As she passed the palace she turned her face. I knew her at once; it
was my friend Marina, who now had attained to the greatness which she
desired, and who, notwithstanding all the evil that she had brought upon
her country, looked most happy in it and in her master's love.
As the Spaniards went by I searched their faces one by one, with the
vague hope of hate. For though it might well chance that death had put
us out of each other's reach, I half thought to see de Garcia among the
number of the conquerors. Such a quest as theirs, with its promise of
blood, and gold, and rapine, would certainly commend itself to his evil
heart should it be in his power to join it, and a strange instinct told
me that he was NOT dead. But neither dead nor living was he among those
men who entered Mexico that day.
That night I saw Guatemoc and asked him how things went.
'Well for the kite that roosts in the dove's nest,' he answered with a
bitter laugh, 'but very ill for the dove. Montezuma, my uncle, has been
cooing yonder,' and he pointed to the palace of Axa, 'and the captain of
the Teules has cooed in answer, but though he tried to hide it, I could
hear the hawk's shriek in his pigeon's note.
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