Volume I Part 19 (2/2)
”What if I should knock open thy doors, and put a sword into thy hand?”
said Villafana, bending over, so as to whisper into his ear; ”what wouldst thou do with it?”
”Break it,” replied the prisoner, wrapping his mantle about his head, as if to shut out all further temptation.
”Thou art a fool,” said the Alguazil, with a growl, and left the apartment.
Juan heard his retreating steps, followed by the clanking of the chain, which, with a strong padlock, on the outside, secured the door of the prison; yet he neither raised his head, nor removed the mantle from his face, but endeavoured to drive from his heart the thoughts of pa.s.sion, excited by the words of the tempter. From this gloomy task he was roused by a soft voice, murmuring, as it seemed to him from the air, for he was not aware of the presence of any human being in the apartment,--
”Does the Great Eagle fear the face of his friend?”
He started to his feet, and beheld in the light of the lantern, which Villafana had left on the table, the figure of an ancient Indian, standing hard by.
”Techeechee!” he exclaimed--”But no; thy speech is pure, thy tongue is another's. Who art thou, gray-head of Mexico?”
”To-day, Cojotl, the cunning fox of scribes,--yesterday, Olin, the tongue of n.o.bles,--but before, and hereafter, Guatimozin, the friend of the Great Eagle,” replied the Indian, and as he spoke, he exchanged the decrepit stoop of age for the lofty demeanour of youth, and parted the gray locks which had hitherto almost concealed his countenance.
”Rash prince,” said Juan, ”will you yet wear the chains of Montezuma?
Why dost thou again entrust thyself among Spaniards?”
”How came the Great Eagle into the place of Guatimozin?” demanded the young Mexican, expressively: ”Shall he die for Guatimozin, and Guatimozin stand afar off?”
”Alas, prince,” said Juan, ”thy friends.h.i.+p is n.o.ble, but can do me no good. Leave this place, where thou art in great danger, and think of me no more. I am beyond the reach of help. Think of thyself,--of thy people, (for, surely, it is thy duty to protect them,) and depart while thou canst.”
”And what am I, that I should do this thing?” said Guatimozin. ”Listen to me, son of the day-spring: the children of Spain are wolves and reptiles; the iztli is sharp for them, and it must not spare. But thou, the young Eagle, shalt remain the friend of Guatimozin. Has not Malintzin eaten of thy blood? is he not like the big tiger that takes by the throat? and who shall draw him away? Canst thou remain, and smile on another sunset? I bring thee liberty.”
”How!” said Juan; ”is Villafana this traitor, that he will permit me to escape?”
”He is a rat with two faces,” said the prince, significantly; ”he fears the wrath of Malintzin; he loves gold, but he says thou shalt not go till to-morrow, and to-morrow thou wilt be in Mictlan, the world of caves. But Guatimozin can do what the traitor Christian will not. The Eagle is very brave: he shall kill his foe.”
As Guatimozin spoke, he drew from his cloak a Spanish dagger, long, sharp and exceedingly bright,--a relic of the spoils won from the invaders in the Night of Sorrow,--and offered it to the prisoner, adding,
”When I depart, a soldier will fasten the door. If thou art strong-hearted, thou canst rush by, dealing him a blow. At the water's edge, by the broken wall, thou wilt find a friend with a canoe; it is Techeechee. Is not Tenocht.i.tlan hard by? Guatimozin, the king of Mexico, will make his friend welcome.”
”Prince,” said Juan, sadly, ”this thing cannot be. Why should I strike down the poor sentinel? He has done me no wrong. What would become of thee? Thou couldst not escape. What would become of Villafana, who, knave though he be, has yet done much to serve me? And what, to conclude, would become of _me_, escaping from Christians, to take refuge among thy unbelieving people? I can die, prince, but I can be neither renegade nor apostate.”
”Is there nothing in Tenocht.i.tlan, that dwells in the thoughts of the captive? I will be very good to thee; and thou shalt drink the blood of thy foe.”
”Prince,” said Juan, firmly, ”thine eye cannot search the soul of a Christian. Malintzin has done me a great wrong, yet would I not harm a hair of his head; no, heaven is my witness! I can forgive him even my death, however unjust and cruel.”
”It is a dove of Cholula that speaks in the voice of my friend,” said the infidel, struck with as much disdain as surprise at the want of spirit, which his barbarous code of honour discovered in a lack of vindictiveness: ”Is a man a worm that he should be trampled on?”
”No,” said Juan, bitterly,--for he could not resist his feelings of indignation, when he suffered himself to consider his degradation in this light. ”Had I resisted him in his first anger, had I resented his first injustice, had I provoked him by any complaint, then might I think of his course with submission. But I have not; I have been, indeed, as thou sayest, a worm, at all times helpless, at all times unresisting.
Others have complained, some have defied him, but they pa.s.sed unpunished. I, who have yielded, like a woman, escape not: I creep from the path of his anger, but his foot follows me,--turn which way I will, it crushes me. Even Befo will show his teeth sometimes--I have seen him growl when Cortes struck him--and by mine honour, I think he struck him, because he was once mine!”
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