ad been ordered to carry Cortes up the fatiguing
stairway-ascent of the pyramid, and to the polite inquiries of
Montezuma, the _Conquistador_ replied, "that a Spaniard was never
weary!" "But this abode of the devil," he said, with less politic
words, which somewhat offended Montezuma--indicating the blood-stained
sanctuary of the summit where they stood--"should rather be the home of
the Cross"; and, indeed, the abominable place might well arouse the
indignation of a Christian man: even one of that race and religion
which later, in the same place, burned its own brethren at the stake
for the good of their souls!

A few days wrought a change. Montezuma became a prisoner in the Spanish
camp! In the heart of his own city, surrounded by his powerful chiefs
and armies, the Aztec languished in vile, if seemingly voluntary,
durance; and, an instrument in the invaders' hands, he governed his
realm from their quarters. How was this astonishing transformation
brought about? Cortes and his companions were in a singular position.
Living in friendly harmony with their powerful host, shielded by his
strange, superstitious reverence for a tradition, they yet could not
but fear some change of circumstance which might, at any moment, plunge
them into insecurity or threaten them with destruction. Moreover,
Cortes knew not in what condition he stood with the dreaded powers of
Castile. What favour or disfavour had he incurred in Spain for his
irregular proceedings?--adverse representation of which, he well knew,
would have been made by Velasquez and others, jealous of the conquest.
Also--and this was a more poignant consideration than any other--Mexico
was not conquered; it was only discovered. Action was necessary--to go
or stay. "Listen," said Cortes to his captains, as they held solemn
conclave. "This is my plan. We will seize and hold Montezuma. What say
you?" It was done. For a pretext for this unworthy act the murder of
two Spaniards upon an expedition at Vera Cruz was assigned. Visiting
Montezuma's residence under pretence of asking redress for this--which
was fully granted by the Aztec king, with absolute proofs of his
non-participation in the occurrence--the Spaniards demanded that he
should accompany them to their camp and take up his residence there.

This remarkable request was acceded to by the weak Montezuma--let us
not say weak, but rather fatalist--and, accompanied by his weeping
vassals, he allowed himself to be conducted