"I am not purposing to use my words on Velasquez, but on his prisoner. This poor creature tells me that Hatuey is offered life on one condition. It shall be my office as a humble suppliant to implore him to accept it."
So saying, with a sign to the weeping Indian woman, he darted off with a fiery speed that gave the poor creature at least the comfort of feeling that she had one with her who sympathized with her hapless misery. They were not long in reaching their destination.
Scattered groups of men and women, chiefly Indians, they came up with first, and then there was a dense crowd around a central space occupied by the Governor, a small group of counsellors, and a tall and noble-looking Indian, so still, so silent, so immovably calm of face, that he seemed rather a life-like statue of a Stoic than a human being.
Yet more central still was a great stake surrounded by a pile of faggots, beside which stood two Indian slaves, who were to feel the bitterest sting of slavery in doing to death their champion.
Had Hatuey been a slave, and assigned this post, he would have joined the victim at the stake rather than perform it; but all are not thus noble-minded. Life is sweet, even with floggings, or rather, death has terrors for all men, excepting such as are steeled by doggedness, or for such as are sustained by the hidden strength from on high, a strength to which the Cacique may now have owed his courageous calm, although his Christian murderers scorned him as a heathen.
But his poor, heart-stricken squaw felt no courage, no grand sentiments of resignation, as she caught sight of her chief and husband being now dragged towards the giant pile, and saw the ropes which were to bind his body to the stake. With a piercing cry she tore a way for herself through that dense circle of pitiless Spanish warriors, and cast herself at Hatuey's feet uttering dry gasping moans worse to hear than any weeping. Montoro de Diego followed her through the crowd, and strode up to Velasquez.
"Señor!" he exclaimed, in a voice that vibrated to the depths of many a callous heart of even those hardened listeners by whom he was surrounded; "Señor, already are we as so many Cains in this land; pause ere you give Satan yet another plea against us in the courts above. Lay upon me what burden or what fine you will, and let me ransom yon grand example to all patriots. Give me his life, that the heathen may learn that Spaniards prize true greatness."
He came to a pause in his rapid speech from breathlessness, and then for the first time gave himself full opportunity to notice his hearer's face.
Cynicism and contemptuous indignation were united in the Governor's expression, but there was no hope to be read there for the success of Montoro's prayer.
There was a sarcastic sharpness in Velasquez' voice as he replied—