“Why the question?”
“I have gone through graveyards not more deserted.”
“Thou’rt right,” said Lugo. “By Our Lady! when last we went this way, I remember the pavements, doors, porticos, and roofs were crowded. Now, not a woman or a child.”
“In faith, Señor, we are a show suddenly become stale.”
“Be it so,” replied Leon, sneeringly. “We will give the public a new trick.”
“Mirad, Señores!” said Cortes. “Last night, all through this district, particularly along this street, there went patrols, removing the inhabitants, and making ready for what the drum is advertised to let loose upon us. Don Pedro, thy princess hath told the truth.” And looking back to the towers of the teocallis, he added, after a fit of laughter, “The fools, the swine! They have undone themselves; or, rather,”—his face became grave on the instant,—“the Holy Mother hath undone them for us. Give thanks, gentlemen, our emprise is already won! Yonder the infidel general hath his army in waiting for the word of the king. Keep we that unspoken or undelivered,—only that,—and the way of our return, prisoner in hand, will be as clear of armed men as the going is.”
The customary guard of nobles kept the portal of the palace; the antechamber, however, was crowded to its full capacity with unarmed courtiers, through whom the Christians passed with grave assurance. To acquaintances Cortes bowed courteously. Close by the door of the audience-chamber, he found Orteguilla conversing with Maxtla, who, at sight of him, knelt, and, touching the floor with his palm, offered to conduct the party to the royal presence; such were his orders. Cortes stopped an instant.
“Hath the king company?” he asked Orteguilla.
“None of account,—a boy and three or four old men.”
“He is ours. Let us on, gentlemen!”