was the day of St. Hippolytus--from this circumstance selected as the
patron saint of modern Mexico--that Cortes led his warlike array for the
last time across the black and blasted environs which lay around the
Indian capital. On entering the Aztec precincts he paused, willing to
afford its wretched inmates one more chance of escape before striking
the fatal blow. He obtained an interview with some of the principal
chiefs, and expostulated with them on the conduct of their Prince. "He
surely will not," said the general, "see you all perish, when he can
easily save you." He then urged them to prevail on Guatemotzin to hold a
conference with him, repeating the assurances of his personal safety.

The messengers went on their mission, and soon returned with the
Cihuacoatl at their head, a magistrate of high authority among the
Mexicans. He said, with a melancholy air, in which his own
disappointment was visible, that "Guatemotzin was ready to die where he
was, but would hold no interview with the Spanish commander"; adding in
a tone of resignation, "It is for you to work your pleasure." "Go,
then," replied the stern conqueror, "and prepare your countrymen for
death. Their hour is come."

He still postponed the assault for several hours. But the impatience of
his troops at this delay was heightened by the rumor that Guatemotzin
and his nobles were preparing to escape with their effects in the
periaguas and canoes which were moored on the margin of the lake.
Convinced of the fruitlessness and impolicy of further procrastination,
Cortes made his final dispositions for the attack, and took his own
station on an azotea which commanded the theatre of operations.

When the assailants came into the presence of the enemy, they found them
huddled together in the utmost confusion, all ages and both sexes, in
masses so dense that they nearly forced one another over the brink of
the causeways into the water below. Some had climbed on the terraces,
others feebly supported themselves against the walls of the buildings.
Their squalid and tattered garments gave a wildness to their appearance
which still further heightened the ferocity of their expression, as they
glared on their enemy with eyes in which hate was mingled with despair.
When the Spaniards had approached within bow-shot, the Aztecs let off a
flight of impotent missiles, showing to the last the resolute spirit,
though they had lost the strength, of their better days. The fatal