Montezuma is dead,' and instantly with a dreadful wailing the multitude fled this way and that, so that presently no living man could be seen where there had been thousands.
I turned to comfort Otomie, who was watching at my side, and had seen her royal father fall, and led her weeping into the palace.

Here we met Guatemoc, the prince, and his mien was fierce and wild.

He was fully armed and carried a bow in his hand.
'Is Montezuma dead ?' I asked.
'I neither know nor care,' he answered with a savage laugh, then added: 'Now curse me, Otomie my cousin, for it was my arrow that smote him down, this king who has become a woman and a traitor, false to his manhood and his country.' Then Otomie ceased weeping and answered: 'I cannot curse you, Guatemoc, for the gods have smitten my father with a madness as you smote him with your arrow, and it is best that he should die, both for his own sake and for that of his people.

Still, Guatemoc, I am sure of this, that your crime will not go unpunished, and that in payment for this sacrilege, you shall yourself come to a shameful death.' 'It may be so,' said Guatemoc, 'but at least I shall not die betraying my trust;' and he went.
Now I must tell that, as I believed, this was my last day on earth, for on the morrow my year of godhead expired, and I, Thomas Wingfield, should be led out to sacrifice.

Notwithstanding all the tumult in the city, the mourning for the dead and the fear that hung over it like a cloud, the ceremonies of religion and its feasts were still celebrated strictly, more strictly indeed than ever before.