“True, true,” replied the king, moodily. “The preparations must be going on in the square of the temple in which Malinche was lodged last night.”
Tecetl continued. “And now I look down the street; a crowd approaches from the city—”
“Speak of them,” said Mualox. “I would know who they are.”
“Most of them wear long beards and robes, like yours, father,—robes white and reaching to their feet; in front a few come, swinging censers—”
“They are pabas from the temples,” said Mualox.
“Behind them I see a greater crowd,” she continued. “How stately their step! how beautiful their plumes!”
“The twenty thousand! the army!” said Mualox.
“No, she speaks of them as plumed. They must be lords and caciques going to the temple.” While speaking, the monarch’s eyes wandered restlessly, and he sighed, saying, “Where can the companies be? It is time they were in the city.”
So his anxiety betrayed itself.
Then Mualox said, grimly, “Hope not, O king. The priests and caciques go to death; the army would but swell the flow of blood.”