"And wherefore does he this?"
"Faith, in the amiable wish to reconcile some of the jarring elements of his conspiracy; to wit, the Tlascalans and Mexicans; the latter of whom, this night, will, with his good help, show the black-cheeked Xicotencal the advantages to be gained by uniting with his mighty and royal enemy of Mexico, to secure the destruction of my insignificant self. Ha! ha! Is not the thought absurdly delightful! Ah, Villafana! Villafana! I have no such merry conceited good-fellow as thou!"
La Monjonaza beheld the exultation, and listened to the mirthful laugh of the Conqueror with much interest, and not a little surprise. It did indeed seem extraordinary, that he should be so heartily diverted by the audacity of a villany that aimed at his downfall, and perhaps his life. But this very merriment indicated how many majestic fathoms he felt himself elevated above the reach of any arts of human malevolence or opposition. It was as if the eagle, flapping his wings among thunder-clouds, shrieked with contempt at schoolboys shooting up birdbolts from the village-green.—It gave a clew to a characteristic which Infeliz was not slow to unravel. A deep sigh from her lips recalled the general from his diversion.
"Thou sighest, Magdalena?" he cried.
"It was for thee," she answered: "I sighed, indeed, to think how much and how truly thou, thus elevated by a touch of divinity above the children of men, dost yet resemble this miserable, grovelling, befooled Villafana!"
"What, I? Resemble him? resemble Villafana?"
"Deny it, if thou canst," said the maiden, with rebuking severity; "and if thou canst not, then humble thyself, and confess the base similitude. Thou differest from him but in this,—that, whereas, in one quality, thou art uplifted miles above his head, thou art, in another, sunk even leagues below him.—Thou frownest? Hast thou discovered that anger adds aught to the state of dignity? Thou dost, this moment, even with the crawling venom of Villafana, with a rage still more abased, seek a life thou hast not courage openly to destroy."
"Santiago!" cried Cortes, in a heat; "by St. Peter, you are over-bitter. But pho, I will not be angry with thee. Dost thou think me this coward thing?"
"Hast thou not doomed the young man, Juan Lerma, a second time, to death?" cried La Monjonaza, with an eye that trembled not a moment in the gaze of the Captain-General; "and was it not with the embrace of a Judas? Oh, señor!" she continued, firmly, "say not that Villafana is either base or craven. He strikes at the strong man, who sits armed and with his eyes open: but thou, oh thou,—thou art content to aim at the breast of the friendless and naked sleeper!—Judge between thyself and Villafana."
It is impossible to express the mingled effects of shame and rage, that disfigured the visage and convulsed the frame of the Captain-General, at this powerful and altogether unexpected rebuke. He smote his brow, he took two or three hasty steps over the floor; when, at last, a thought striking him, he rushed back to the chider, snatched up her hand, and said, with an attempt at laughter, painfully contrasted with his working and even agonized visage,