Then when I thought that my hour had come, a hand caught his arm in mid-air and held it and I heard a voice whispering.
What was said did not please the priest, for suddenly he howled aloud and made a dash towards me to kill me, but again his arm was caught before the knife fell.

Then he withdrew into the temple of the god Quetzal, and for a long while I lay upon the stone suffering the agonies of a hundred deaths, for I believed that it was determined to torture me before I died, and that my slaughter had been stayed for this purpose.
There I lay upon the stone, the fierce sunlight beating on my breast, while from below came the faint murmur of the thousands of the wondering people.

All my life seemed to pass before me as I was stretched upon that awful bed, a hundred little things which I had forgotten came back to me, and with them memories of childhood, of my oath to my father, of Lily's farewell kiss and words, of de Garcia's face as I was hurled into the sea, of the death of Isabella de Siguenza, and lastly a vague wonder as to why all priests were so cruel! At length I heard footsteps and shut my eyes, for I could bear the sight of that dreadful knife no longer.

But behold! no knife fell.

Suddenly my hands were loosed and I was lifted to my feet, on which I never hoped to stand again.