Leaving the apartment for a few moments, she quickly returned with a long leather thong, which she carried to Cortes, and then placing her small, dark-hued wrists together, she made signs to him that he should bind them with it thus.
Hernando Cortes was ever gentle with women, and he looked at the rough leather strap, and at the delicate wrists from which the gaily-embroidered robe had been thrown back, and met the girl's signs with smiling shakings of the head for denial. But it was no good. The young Indian flung back the hair from her low, broad forehead angrily, and stamped her foot. Then pressing her wrists against each other more tightly than before, she again held them up to Cortes with an air of resolution, mingled with something of wistful entreaty he could no longer resist.
"Best see, Captain," said Cabrera, inquisitively; "best let us see what the wilful lassie will be at."
"Ay, indeed," agreed Velasquez readily. "I would fain see what rebuke for your taunt of cowardice, Captain, the ancient white-locks yonder hath devised, and yon maiden is so eager to carry out."
Even Montoro looked curious enough to see what small play was to be performed for their edification. Neither he nor any of them thought it could be anything very desperate, with that slight young girl chosen for the heroine and only actor.
Accordingly, thus urged, and with the small, gold-sandalled foot still tapping restlessly before him on the floor, Hernando Cortes at last set himself to the singular task accorded him, and was not let off, by his small monitress, before he had really bound her wrists together too tightly for her to move them as much as a leaf's thickness apart.
Then she walked with erect head and firm steps back to the old Cacique, where he sat, even that hot day, beside a brazier of burning coals. Old age had chilled the physical nature, although the brave spirit still glowed with the generous warmth of youth.
As his granddaughter stood before him he stooped for a moment over the copper pan of fire. The Spaniards stood at the other end of the apartment still and silent, waiting for what was to come. With all their guessing they had not guessed rightly the nature of the lesson to be taught them.
At the expiration of a few instants the Indian maiden returned back towards them, walking with calm, slow dignity as before—her head erect, her full, crimson lips lying lightly and softly together, and her two bound arms stretched out steadily before her.
At first the Spaniards looked only at her face, and were greatly puzzled. What had been done to her, or what had she done in that short interval to prove the courage of her nation? They could not tell the riddle.