Long and earnestly I gazed, as in his hour of death a man looks back upon his past life, till at length Diaz laid his hand upon my shoulder: 'You are a lonely man now, comrade,' he said; 'what plans have you for the future ?' 'None,' I answered, 'except to die.' 'Never talk so,' he said; 'why, you are scarcely forty, and I who am fifty and more do not speak of dying.

Listen; you have friends in your own country, England ?' 'I had.' 'Folk live long in those quiet lands.

Go seek them, I will find you a passage to Spain.' 'I will think of it,' I answered.
In time we came to Mexico, a new and a strange city to me, for Cortes had rebuilt it, and where the teocalli had stood, up which I was led to sacrifice, a cathedral was building, whereof the foundations were fitly laid with the hideous idols of the Aztecs.

The place was well enough, but it is not so beautiful as the Tenoctitlan of Montezuma, nor ever will be.

The people too were changed; then they were warriors and free, now they are slaves.
In Mexico Diaz found me a lodging.