Some weary time went by, and at last came the day of the entry into Mexico of Cortes and his conquerors.  Now of all the doings of the Spaniards after they occupied the city, I do not propose to speak at length, for these are matters of history, and I have my own story to tell.  So I shall only write of those of them with which I was concerned myself.  I did not see the meeting between Montezuma and Cortes, though I saw the emperor set out to it clad like Solomon in his glory and surrounded by his nobles.  But I am sure of this, that no slave being led to sacrifice carried a heavier heart in his breast than that of Montezuma on this unlucky day.  For now his folly had ruined him, and I think he knew that he was going to his doom.

Afterwards, towards evening, I saw the emperor come back in his golden litter, and pass over to the palace built by Axa his father, that stood opposite to and some five hundred paces from his own, facing the western gate of the temple.  Presently I heard the sound of a multitude shouting, and amidst it the tramp of horses and armed soldiers, and from a seat in my chamber I saw the Spaniards advance down the great street, and my heart beat at the sight of Christian men.  In front, clad in rich armour, rode their leader Cortes, a man of middle size but noble bearing, with thoughtful eyes that noted everything, and after him, some few on horseback but the most of them on foot, marched his little army of conquerors, staring about them with bold wondering eyes and jesting to each other in Castilian.  They were but a handful, bronzed with the sun and scarred by battle, some of them ill-armed and almost in rags, and looking on them I could not but marvel at the indomitable courage that had enabled them to pierce their way through hostile thousands, sickness, and war, even to the home of Montezuma’s power.

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.  Ere long there will be merry doings in Tenoctitlan.’