Montezuma lay dying, a prisoner in the camp of the Teules, and the fire that he had nursed with his breath devoured the land.

No efforts of theirs could break the iron strength of these white devils, armed as they were with strange and terrible weapons.

Day by day disaster overtook the arms of the Aztecs.

What wisdom had they now that the protecting gods were shattered in their very shrines, when the altars ran red with the blood of their ministering priests, when the oracles were dumb or answered only in the accents of despair?
Then one by one princes and generals arose and gave counsel according to their lights.

At length all had spoken, and Cuitlahua said, looking towards me: 'We have a new counsellor among us, who is skilled in the warfare and customs of the white men, who till an hour ago was himself a white man.
Has he no word of comfort for us ?' 'Speak, my brother ?' said Guatemoc.
Then I spoke.