army ten thousand strong, then musicians had sung
before us and our path was strewn with flowers. And now! Now we came two
fugitives from the vengeance of the Teules, I borne in a litter by four
tired soldiers, while Otomie, the princess of this people, still clad in
her wanton's robe, at which the women mocked, for she had been able to
come by no other, tramped at my side, since there were none to carry
her, and the inhabitants of the place cursed us as the authors of their
woes. Nor did we know if they would stop at words.

At length we crossed the square beneath the shadow of the teocalli, and
reached the ancient and sculptured palace as the light failed, and the
smoke on Xaca, the holy hill, began to glow with the fire in its heart.
Here small preparation had been made to receive us, and that night we
supped by the light of a torch upon tortillas or meal cakes and water,
like the humblest in the land. Then we crept to our rest, and as I lay
awake because of the pain of my hurts, I heard Otomie, who thought that
I slept, break into low sobbing at my side. Her proud spirit was humbled
at last, and she, whom I had never known to weep except once, when our
firstborn died in the siege, wept bitterly.

'Why do you sorrow thus, Otomie?' I asked at length.

'I did not know that you were awake, husband,' she sobbed in answer,
'or I would have checked my grief. Husband, I sorrow over all that has
befallen us and my people--also, though these are but little things,
because you are brought low and treated as a man of no estate, and of
the cold comfort that we find here.'

'You have cause, wife,' I answered. 'Say, what will these Otomies do
with us--kill us, or give us up to the Teules?'

'I do not know; to-morrow we shall learn, but for my part I will not be
surrendered living.'

'Nor I, wife. Death is better than the tender mercies of Cortes and his
minister, de Garcia. Is there any hope?'

'Yes, there is hope, beloved. Now the Otomie are cast down and they
remember that we led the flower of their land to death. But they are
brave and generous at heart, and if I can touch them there, all may yet
be well. Weariness, pain and memory make us weak, who should be full of
courage, having escaped so many ills. Sleep, my husband, and leave me to
think. All shall yet go well, for even misfortune has an end.'

So I slept, and woke in the morning somewhat refreshed and with a
happier mind, for who is there that is not bolder when