“A victim! A victim!”

“Hi, hi!”

“Catch him!”

“Stone him!”

“Kill him!”

So cried a mob, at the time in furious motion up the
beautiful street. Numbering hundreds already, it increased
momentarily, and howled as only such a monster can.
Scarce eighty yards in front ran its game, — Orteguilla, the
page.

The boy was in desperate strait. His bonnet, secured by
a braid, danced behind him; his short cloak, of purple velvet,
a little faded, fluttered as if struggling to burst the
throat-loop; his hands were clenched; his face pale with
fear and labor. He ran with all his might, often looking
back; and as his course was up the street, the old palace of
Axaya' must have been the goal he sought, — a long, long
way off for one unused to such exertion and so fiercely
pressed. At every backward glance, he cried, in agony of

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terror, “Help me, O Mother of Christ! By God's love,
help me!” The enemy was gaining upon him.

The lad, as I think I have before remarked, had been detailed
by Cortes to attend Montezuma, with whom, as he
was handsome and witty, and had soon acquired the Aztecan
tongue and uncommon skill at totoloque, he had become an
accepted favorite; so that, while useful to the monarch as a
servant, he was no less useful to the Christian as a detective.
In the course of his service, he had been frequently intrusted
with his royal master's signet, the very highest mark
of confidence. Every day he executed errands in the tianguez,
and sometimes in even remoter quarters of the city.
As a consequence he had come to be quite well known, and
to this day nothing harmful or menacing had befallen him,
although, as was not hard to discern, the people would
have been better satisfied had Maxtla been charged with
such duties.

On this occasion, — the day after the interview between
the 'tzin and Mualox, — while executing some trifling commission
in the market, he became conscious of a change in
the demeanor of those whom he met; of courtesies, there
were none; he was not once saluted; even the jewellers with
whom he dealt viewed him coldly, and asked not a word
about the king; yet, unaware of danger, he went to the
portico of the Chalcan, and sat awhile, enjoying the shade
and the fountain, and listening to the noisy commerce
without.

Presently, he heard a din of conchs and attabals, the
martial music of the Aztecs. Somewhat startled, and
half hidden by the curtains, he looked out, and beheld,
coming from the direction of the king's palace, a
procession bearing ensigns and banners of all shapes, designs,
and colors.

At the first sound of the music, the people, of whom, as

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usual, there were great numbers in the tianguez, quitted their
occupations, and ran to meet the spectacle, which, without
halting, came swiftly down to the Chalcan's; so that
there passed within a few feet of the adventurous page
a procession rarely beautiful, — a procession of warriors marching
in deep files, each one helmeted, and with a shield at his
back, and a banner in his hand, — an army with banners.

At the head, apart from the others, strode a chief whom
all eyes followed. Even Orteguilla was impressed with his
appearance. He wore a tunic of very brilliant feather-work,
the skirt of which fell almost to his knees; from the skirt
to the ankles his lower limbs were bare; around the ankles,
over the thongs of the sandals, were rings of furbished silver;
on his left arm he carried a shield of shining metal, probably
brass, its rim fringed with locks of flowing hair, and in the
centre the device of an owl, snow-white, and wrought of the
plumage of the bird; over his temples, fixed firmly in the
golden head-band, there were wings of a parrot, green as
emerald, and half spread. He exceeded his followers in
stature, which appeared the greater by reason of the long
Chinantlan spear in his right hand, used as a staff. To the
whole was added an air severely grand; for, as he marched, he
looked neither to the right nor left, — apparently too absorbed
to notice the people, many of whom even knelt upon his
approach. From the cries that saluted the chief, together
with the descriptions he had often heard of him, Orteguilla
recognized Guatamozin.

The procession wellnigh passed, and the young Spaniard
was studying the devices on the ensigns, when a hand
was laid upon his shoulder; turning quickly to the intruder,
he saw the prince Io', whom he was in the habit of meeting
daily in the audience-chamber of the king. The prince
met his smile and pleasantry with a sombre face, and said,
coldly, —

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“You have been kind to the king, my father; he loves
you; on your hand I see his signet; therefore I will serve
you. Arise, and begone; stay not a moment. You were
never nearer death than now.”

Orteguilla, scarce comprehending, would have questioned
him, but the prince spoke on.

“The chiefs who inhabit here are in the procession. Had
they found you, Huitzil' would have had a victim before sunset.
Stay not; begone!”

While speaking, Io' moved to the curtained doorway from
which he had just come. “Beware of the people in the
square; trust not to the signet. My father is still the king;
but the lords and pabas have given his power to another, —
him whom you saw pass just now before the banners. In
all Anahuac Guatamozin's word is the law, and that word
is — War.” And with that he passed into the house.

The page was a soldier, not so much in strength as experience,
and brave from habit; now, however, his heart stood
still, and a deadly coldness came over him; his life was in
peril. What was to be done?

The procession passed by, with the multitude in a fever of
enthusiasm; then the lad ventured to leave the portico, and
start for his quarters, to gain which he had first to traverse the
side of the square he was on; that done, he would be in the
beautiful street, going directly to the desired place. He strove
to carry his ordinary air of confidence; but the quick step,
pale face, and furtive glance would have been tell-tales to the
shopkeepers and slaves whom he passed, if they had been the
least observant. As it was, he had almost reached the street,
and was felicitating himself, when he heard a yell behind
him. He looked back, and beheld a party of warriors
coming at full speed. Their cries and gestures left no room
to doubt that he was their object. He started at once for life.

The noise drew everybody to the doors, and forthwith

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everybody joined the chase. After passing several bridges,
the leading pursuers were about seventy yards behind him,
followed by a stream of supporters extending to the tianguez
and beyond. So we have the scene with which the chapter
opens.

The page's situation was indeed desperate. He had not
yet reached the king's palace, on the other side of which, as
he knew, lay a stretch of street frightful to think of in such
a strait. The mob was coming rapidly. To add to his
horror, in front appeared a body of men armed and marching
toward him; at the sight, they halted; then they formed a
line of interception. His steps flagged; fainter, but more
agonizing, arose his prayer to Christ and the Mother. Into
the recesses on either hand, and into the doors and windows,
and up to the roofs, and down into the canals, he cast despairing
glances; but chance there was not; capture was certain,
and then the —SACRIFICE!

That moment he reached a temple of the ancient construction, —
properly speaking, a Cû, — low, broad, massive, in
architecture not unlike the Egyptian, and with steps along
the whole front. He took no thought of its appearance,
nor of what it might contain; he saw no place of refuge
within; his terror had become a blind, unreasoning madness.
To escape the sacrifice was his sole impulse; and I am not
sure but that he would have regarded death in any form other
than at the hands of the pabas as an escape. So he turned,
and darted up the steps; before his foremost pursuer was at
the bottom, he was at the top.

With a glance he swept the azoteas. Through the wide,
doorless entrance of a turret, he saw an altar of stainless
white marble, decorated profusely with flowers; imagining
there might be pabas present, and possibly devotees, he ran
around the holy place, and came to a flight of steps, down
which he passed to a court-yard bounded on every side by a

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colonnade. A narrow doorway at his right hand, full of
darkness, offered him a hiding-place.

In calmer mood, I doubt if the young Spaniard could have
been induced alone to try the interior of the Cû. He would
at least have studied the building with reference to the cardinal
points of direction; now, however, driven by the terrible
fear, without thought or question, without precaution
of any kind, taking no more note of distance than course,
into the doorway, into the unknown, headlong he plunged.
The darkness swallowed him instantly; yet he did not abate
his speed, for behind him he heard — at least he fancied so—
the swift feet of pursuers. Either the dear Mother of his
prayers, or some ministering angel, had him in keeping during
the blind flight; but at last he struck obliquely against
a wall; in the effort to recover himself, he reeled against
another; then he measured his length upon the floor, and
remained exhausted and fainting.