the Aztecs were hewn down without resistance. Those who attempted to
escape by climbing the wall of serpents were speared ruthlessly, till
presently not one of that gay company remained alive; then the Spaniards
added the crowning horror to their dreadful deed by plundering the
bodies of their murdered victims. The tidings of the massacre flew like
wildfire through the capital, and every long-smothered feeling of
hostility burst forth in the cry that arose for vengeance. The city rose
in arms to a man and almost before the Spaniards could secure themselves
in their defences, they were assaulted with desperate fury: some of the
assailants attempted to scale the walls, others succeeded in partially
undermining and setting fire to the works. It is impossible to say how
the attack would have ended, but the Spaniards entreated Montezuma to
interfere, and he, mounting the battlements, conjured the furious people
to desist from storming the fortress out of regard for his safety. They
so far respected him that they changed their operations into a regular
blockade, throwing up works round the palace to prevent the egress of
the Spaniards, and suspending the market so that they might not obtain
any supplies, and then they sat down to wait sullenly till famine should
throw their enemies into their hands.

The condition of the besieged was gloomy enough. True their provisions
still held out, but they suffered greatly from want of water, that
within the enclosure being quite brackish, until a fresh spring was
suddenly discovered in the courtyard. Even then the fact that scarcely a
man had escaped unwounded, and that they had no prospect before them but
a lingering death by famine, or one more dreadful still upon the altar
of sacrifice, made their situation a very trying one. The coming of
their comrades was therefore doubly welcome. As an explanation of his
atrocious act, Alvarado declared that he had but struck the blow to
intimidate the natives and crush an intended rising of the people, of
which he had received information through his spies.

Cortes listened calmly till the story was finished, then exclaimed with
undisguised displeasure, 'You have done badly. You have been false to
your trust. Your conduct has been that of a madman!' And so saying, he
turned and left him abruptly, no doubt bitterly regretting that he had
entrusted so important a command to one whose frank and captivating
exterior was but the mask for a rash and