Seeing how confident Malinche was as to the reception she could procure for him, Roger awaited her return, to the chamber where she had placed him, with little anxiety. In a quarter of an hour she returned, and beckoned him to follow.
"I have told him," she said. "It did not seem to him strange that some vessel should have been driven by the storms and wrecked here. He asked no questions as to how many years ago it was. I told him you were a young boy at the time, and have forgotten all but a few words of the language; and how, when you grew to be a man, you were sold to some Mexican merchants, and would have been sacrificed to the gods had you not made your escape. As I had told him, before, that there had been a white man living at Tabasco, who had been very good to me, he was not surprised at the story."
She took Roger to an apartment in which Cortez, and several of his principal officers, were standing. As Malinche had told them that he was painted, and disguised as a native, they were not surprised at his appearance; although his height, which was far beyond that attained by Spaniards, somewhat astonished them.
Roger approached the group, and at once fell on one knee before Cortez, took his hand and kissed it. Cortez raised him, and embraced him warmly.
"I am delighted to find another of my countrymen," he said; "and all the more, since Marina tells me that she knows you well, and that you were most kind and good to her."
"Senor," Roger said, in broken Spanish, "I do not understand. I have forgotten."
"You will soon recover it," Cortez said.
"Tell him, Aquilar, that he will soon learn to speak his native language again."