his wicked face maddened with the lust for blood, or the glare in his eyes as he tossed back his matted locks.  But he did not strike at once, he gloated over me, pricking me with the point of the knife.  It seemed to me that I lay there for years while the paba aimed and pointed with the knife, but at last through a mist that gathered before my eyes, I saw it flash upward.  Then when I thought that my hour had come, a hand caught his arm in mid-air and held it and I heard a voice whispering.

What was said did not please the priest, for suddenly he howled aloud and made a dash towards me to kill me, but again his arm was caught before the knife fell.  Then he withdrew into the temple of the god Quetzal, and for a long while I lay upon the stone suffering the agonies of a hundred deaths, for I believed that it was determined to torture me before I died, and that my slaughter had been stayed for this purpose.

There I lay upon the stone, the fierce sunlight beating on my breast, while from below came the faint murmur of the thousands of the wondering people.  All my life seemed to pass before me as I was stretched upon that awful bed, a hundred little things which I had forgotten came back to me, and with them memories of childhood, of my oath to my father, of Lily’s farewell kiss and words, of de Garcia’s face as I was hurled into the sea, of the death of Isabella de Siguenza, and lastly a vague wonder as to why all priests were so cruel!

At length I heard footsteps and shut my eyes, for I could bear the sight of that dreadful knife no longer.  But behold! no knife fell.  Suddenly my hands were loosed and I was lifted to my feet, on which I never hoped to stand again.  Then I was borne to the edge of the teocalli, for I could not walk, and here my would-be murderer, the priest, having first shouted some words to the spectators below, that caused them to murmur like a forest when the wind stirs it, clasped me in his blood-stained arms and kissed me on the forehead.  Now it was for the first time that I noticed my captor, the cacique, standing at my side, grave, courteous, and smiling.  As he had smiled when he handed me to the pabas, so he smiled when he took me back from them.  Then having been cleansed and clothed, I was led into the sanctuary of the god Quetzal and stood face to face with the hideous image there, staring at the golden censer that was to have received my heart while the priests uttered prayers.  Thence I was supported down the winding road of the pyramid till I came to its foot, where my captor the cacique took me by the hand and led me through the people who, it seemed, now regarded me with some strange veneration.  The first person that I saw when we reached the house was Marina, who looked at me and murmured some soft words that I could not understand.  Then I was suffered to go to my chamber, and there I passed the rest of the day prostrated by all that I had undergone.  Truly I had come to a land of devils!