beneath the bands and the colour come upon her brow.

'Then I am repaid,' she answered, and our lips clung together in a kiss,
the first, and as we thought the last. Yes, there we kissed, on the
stone of sacrifice, beneath the knife of the priest and the shadow of
death, and if there has been a stranger love scene in the world, I have
never heard its story.

'Oh! I am repaid,' she said again; 'I would gladly die a score of deaths
to win this moment, indeed I pray that I may die before you take back
your words. For, Teule, I know well that there is one who is dearer to
you than I am, but now your heart is softened by the faithfulness of an
Indian girl, and you think that you love her. Let me die then believing
that the dream is true.'

'Talk not so,' I answered heavily, for even at that moment the memory
of Lily came into my mind. 'You give your life for me and I love you for
it.'

'My life is nothing and your love is much,' she answered smiling. 'Ah!
Teule, what magic have you that you can bring me, Montezuma's daughter,
to the altar of the gods and of my own free will? Well, I desire no
softer bed, and for the why and wherefore it will soon be known by both
of us, and with it many other things.'

CHAPTER XXII

THE TRIUMPH OF THE CROSS

'Otomie,' I said presently, 'when will they kill us?'

'When the point of light lies within the ring that is painted over your
heart,' she answered.

Now I turned my head from her, and looked at the sunbeam which pierced
the shadow above us like a golden pencil. It rested at my side about
six inches from me, and I reckoned that it would lie in the scarlet
ring painted upon my breast within some fifteen minutes. Meanwhile the
clamour of battle grew louder and nearer. Shifting myself so far as the
cords would allow, I strained my head upwards and saw that the Spaniards
had gained the crest of the pyramid, since the battle now raged upon its
edge, and I have rarely seen so terrible a fight, for the Aztecs fought
with the fury of despair, thinking little of their own lives if they
could only bring a Spaniard to his death. But for the most part their
rude weapons would not pierce the coats of mail, so that there remained
only one way to compass their desire, namely, by casting the white men
over the edge of the teocalli to be crushed like eggshells upon the
pavement two hundred feet below. Thus the fray broke itself up into
groups of foes who rent and tore at each other upon