“Said he how I could help him?” asked the king.
“Come and speak to the people, and disperse them, as once before thou didst. And to strengthen thy words, and as his part of the trial, he saith thou mayst pledge him to leave the city as soon as the way is open. Only let there be no delay. He is in waiting to go with thee, good king.”
The monarch listened intently.
“Too late, too late!” he cried. “The ears of my people are turned from me. I am king in name and form only; the power is another’s. I am lost,—so is Malinche. I will not go. Tell him so.”
There was a stir in the chamber, and a groan from the bystanders; but the messengers remained looking at the poor king, as at one who had rashly taken a fatal vow.
“Why do you stay?” he continued, with a glowing face. “What more have I to do with Malinche? See the state to which my serving him has already reduced me.”
“Remember thy people!” said Olmedo, solemnly.
Flashed the monarch’s eyes as he answered,—
“My brave people! I hear them now. They are in arms to save themselves; and they will not believe me or the promises of Malinche. I have spoken.”
Then Oli moved a step toward the dais, and kissing the royal hand, said, with suffused eyes,—