Nor did we know if they would stop at words.
At length we crossed the square beneath the shadow of the teocalli, and
reached the ancient and sculptured palace as the light failed, and the
smoke on Xaca, the holy hill, began to glow with the fire in its heart.
Here small preparation had been made to receive us, and that night we
supped by the light of a torch upon tortillas or meal cakes and water,
like the humblest in the land. Then we crept to our rest, and as I lay
awake because of the pain of my hurts, I heard Otomie, who thought that
I slept, break into low sobbing at my side. Her proud spirit was humbled
at last, and she, whom I had never known to weep except once, when our
firstborn died in the siege, wept bitterly.
'Why do you sorrow thus, Otomie?' I asked at length.
'I did not know that you were awake, husband,' she sobbed in answer,
'or I would have checked my grief. Husband, I sorrow over all that has
befallen us and my people--also, though these are but little things,
because you are brought low and treated as a man of no estate, and of
the cold comfort that we find here.'
'You have cause, wife,' I answered. 'Say, what will these Otomies do
with us--kill us, or give us up to the Teules?'
'I do not know; to-morrow we shall learn, but for my part I will not be
surrendered living.'
'Nor I, wife. Death is better than the tender mercies of Cortes and his
minister, de Garcia.
Pages:
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433