"The award of the judges, sent to your excellency for confirmation."
The golden luminary fell, with a heavy clang, upon the floor, the flush fled from his cheeks, and the look with which he turned to the untimely and ill-omened messenger, Villafana, was even more ghastly with affright than that which distinguished the aspect of the Alguazil.
"If your excellency thinks of mercy," continued the Alguazil, in the same low and hurried voice,—"it is not yet too late. They have him on the square, and are confessing him.—He has but a dog's life, and a gnat's death, who puts them in the hands of De Olid."—
Cortes cast his eye upon the paper, and beheld, besides the date, a preamble of two lines, and the signatures of the judges, the following brief and pithy sentences:
"Concealing a spy and fugitive from justice—Guilty.
"Drawing sword upon a Christian—Guilty.
"Resisting with arms an officer in the execution of his duty—Guilty.
"Sentence—To be beheaded, his right hand struck off and nailed to the prison-door.—To take effect in half an hour.
"In the name of God and the king.
"De Olid,
"Marin,
"De Ircio."
"Butchers!" cried Cortes, with accents of unspeakable horror. "What ho, a pen! a pen, knave! a pen!"
The agitation and violence of his voice surprised even the stoical Mexicans; and the writers looking up, he became suddenly aware that the implements with which they practised their rude art, would answer all his purpose. Darting forward, he snatched from the hand of the nearest, one of the many reeds which he held. The barbarian, although apparently the oldest and most infirm of the three, mistaking the purpose of the assault, started to his feet with a vivacity of effort, which, at any other moment, would have drawn a sharp look of suspicion from the Captain-General. But his thoughts were too much excited to be diverted by any such seeming inconsistency.
It happened, by a natural accident, (for each reed was appropriated to its peculiar colour,) that that which Cortes had seized contained a dark crimson ink. Still, natural as the circumstance was, it had no sooner touched the paper than he shuddered, and muttering 'Blood! blood!' seemed as if he would have cast it away. But recovering himself in an instant, with a faint and forced laugh, he subscribed the few words,
"Confirmed.—Respite for twenty-four hours.
"Cortes."
and putting the paper into Villafana's hands, he dismissed him with the hurried charge,