"I wish to leave. But believe, my captain and my long-time friend, I shall part with you with grief, and although my conscience forbids my further aiding a conquest and spoliation which I deem unjust, I would not, and I dare not if I would, endeavour to be the ruler of the consciences of others."
Cortes looked at him in some surprise.
"How so, Diego? What sayest thou? Surely thou wouldst make me, and all of us, think as thou dost, were it but possible to thy persuasive tongue."
But the answer came readily enough.
"Nay then, verily," said Montoro, with tones deeper and more earnest than before; "that truly would I not. I am not omniscient. These marvellous and wide-spread conquests and slaughters are allowed by the universal Father, I know——"
"Why, of course they are," came the hasty interruption. "They are undertaken for the glory of the Faith."
"And," muttered Juan de Cabrera, with just a momentary twitch of his lips at the corners,—"and just a little, perchance, for the glory likewise of ourselves and our silk-lined, empty pockets."
But Montoro de Diego paid no more heed to the one interruption than to the other, as he continued with scarcely a pause—
"They are allowed by the Almighty, I know, for against His will there can be nought on earth. But perchance they are also with His will, by His law, and for the spread of the knowledge of His Gospel. What mortal shall dare to judge of this? I, at least, veil my face before the mysterious workings of the Creator; and although I feel my own call henceforth to be to quieter scenes, I judge not those who, with regard to honour and humanity, shall prosecute these wars."
"Then you do not leave me as you left Hispaniola long since, because you believed it given up to the government of Satan and his captains?" asked Cortes, with a touch of anxiety in his voice. "It is not quite so bad as this then, is it, Toro?"