hat a large body of
Mexican troops were concealed near the town. Two of the Tlascalans,
who had entered the city in disguise, declared that some of the
streets were barricaded, and that others were undermined, and but
slightly covered over, as traps for the horses. They also reported
that six children had recently been sacrificed in the chief temple,
which was a certain indication that some great military enterprise was
on foot. Cortez, however, did not place much reliance upon this
testimony from the Tlascalans. He was well aware that they would be
glad, in any way, to bring down destruction on Cholula.

But more reliable testimony came from the amiable Marina. She had won
the love of one of the noble ladies of the city. This woman, wishing
to save Marina from destruction, informed her that a plot was in
progress for the inevitable ruin of her friends. According to her
account, deep pits were dug and concealed in the streets, stones
carried to the tops of the houses and the temples, and that Mexican
troops were secretly drawing near. The fatal hour was at hand, and
escape impossible.

The energy of Cortez was now roused. Quietly he drew up the Spanish
and Zempoallan troops, armed to the teeth, in the heart of the city.
He sent a secret order to the Tlascalans to approach, and, at a given
signal, to fall upon the surprised and unarmed Cholulans, and cut them
down without mercy. He then, upon a friendly pretext, sent for the
magistrates of the city and all the principal nobles. They were
immediately assembled, and the signal for massacre was given.

The poor natives, taken entirely by surprise, rushed in dismay this
way and that, encountering death at every corner. The Tlascalans, like
hungry wolves, swept through the streets, glutting themselves with
blood. It was with them the carnival of insatiable revenge. The
dwellings were sacked piteously, and the city every where kindled
into flame. Women and children were seized by the merciless Tlascalans
to grace their triumph, and to bleed upon their altars of human
sacrifice. For two days this horrid scene continued. At last, from
exhaustion, the carnage ceased. The city was reduced to smouldering
ruins, and pools of blood and mutilated carcases polluted the streets.
The wail of the wretched survivors, homeless and friendless, rose to
the ear of Heaven more dismal than the piercing shriek of anguish
which is silenced by death. The argument with which Cortez defends
this