’Do you remember how once you rejected me down yonder in Tobasco, Guatemoc, and what I told you then?—­that I should grow great in spite of you?  You see it has all come true and more than true, and you are brought to this.  Are you not sorry, Guatemoc?  I am sorry, though were I as some women are, perchance I might rejoice to see you thus.’

‘Woman,’ the prince answered in a thick voice, ’you have betrayed your country and you have brought me to shame and torment.  Yes, had it not been for you, these things had never been.  I am sorry, indeed I am sorry—­that I did not kill you.  For the rest, may your name be shameful for ever in the ears of honest men and your soul be everlastingly accursed, and may you yourself, even before you die, know the bitterness of dishonour and betrayal!  Your words were fulfilled, and so shall mine be also.’

She heard and turned away trembling, and for a while was silent.  Then her glance fell upon me and she began to weep.

‘Alas! poor man,’ she said; ‘alas! my friend.’

‘Weep not over me, Marina,’ I answered, speaking in Aztec, ’for our tears are of no worth, but help me if you may.’

‘Ah that I could!’ she sobbed, and turning fled from the place, followed presently by Cortes.

Now the Spaniards came in again and removed Guatemoc and the cacique of Tacuba, carrying them in their arms, for they could not walk, and indeed the cacique was in a swoon.

‘Farewell, Teule,’ said Guatemoc as he passed me; ’you are indeed a true son of Quetzal and a gallant man.  May the gods reward you in times to come for all that you have suffered for me and mine, since I cannot.’

Then he was borne out and these were the last words that I ever heard him utter.

Now I was left alone with the Tlascalans and de Garcia, who mocked me as before.

‘A little tired, eh, friend Wingfield?’ he said sneering.  ’Well, the play is rough till you get used to it.  A night’s sleep will refresh you, and to-morrow you will be a new man.  Perhaps you believe that I have done my worst.  Fool, this is but a beginning.  Also you think doubtless that your obstinacy angers me?  Wrong again, my friend, I only pray that you may keep your lips sealed to the last.  Gladly would I give my share of this hidden gold in payment for two more such days with you.  I have still much to pay you back, and look you, I have found a way to do it.  There are more ways of hurting a man than through his own flesh—­for instance, when I wished to be revenged upon your father, I struck him through her whom he loved.  Now I have touched you and you wonder what I mean.  Well, I will tell you.  Perhaps you may know an Aztec lady of royal blood who is named Otomie?’

‘Otomie, what of her?’ I cried, speaking for the first time, since fear for her stirred me more than all the torments I had borne.