"Shall the slave say to his master, 'I am the bondman of another,' and laugh in the king's face? Let Malintzin send a Christian to Guatimozin. I will row him in my skiff, and he shall return unharmed."
"What thinkest thou of this? I will send him such an envoy, and thou shalt remain a hostage in his place. What will be said to him by the king of Mexico?"
"This," replied the captive, without a moment's hesitation: "The Christian is in Mexico, and Olin-pilli in the prisons of Malintzin: let the Christian therefore die."
"Ay, by my conscience, he speaks well," said Cortes. "But were friendship offered, and twenty thousand hostages left behind, I should like to know what Spaniard of us all would perform the pilgrimage? There is but one.—But that is naught. By heaven and St. John, we will think of other things! we will think of other things!—Is it not death by the decree?"
"Señor!" cried Alvarado in surprise. Cortes started.—In the moment of entranced thought, he had stridden away from the group to some distance, and, he now perceived, they were gazing at him with wonder.
"We will entrust this thing to him, then, as I said," he cried, hurriedly, "and he shall return with the misbeliever's answer. We have no other choice. What think ye of it, my masters?"
"Of what?" said Alvarado, bluntly: "You have said nothing. By'r lady, and with reverence to your excellency, you are dreaming!"
"Pho!" cried the Captain-General, "did I not speak it? Our thoughts sometimes sound in our ears, like words. This is the philosophy of the marvel: Hast thou never, when thine eyes were shut, yet beheld in them the objects of which thou wert thinking? If thou couldst think music, never believe me but thou wouldst also hear it.—This, then, is the thought which I forgot to utter: I will give this dog his freedom, and, for lack of a better, make him my envoy to Guatimozin. If he return, it will be well; if not, we are left where we were; and we can hang him hereafter."
"Let us first know," said Sandoval, coolly, "by what sort of charm he prevailed on this mad young man, Juan Lerma, to peril limb and life for him, and, what is more, honour too."
"Ay, by my conscience!" said Cortes, hurriedly; "this thing I had forgotten.—He shall die the death! Connive with a spy? conceal him from the pursuers? draw sword upon a cavalier? strike at an officer's life? Were he mine own brother, he should abide his doom. Who will say I wrong him now?—Hah! what says the dog? How came this thing to pass?"