"I have come to save you, my brother!" she cried, with accents wildly vehement and incoherent. "We will fly where never man shall see us more. Kiss me, Juan; and then look upon me no more, for I have made a vow to my soul.—Oh, my brother! my brother!" And she flung herself upon his body, and strove, but in vain, to raise him from the floor.
Had the agitation of his mind permitted, Juan must have noticed, and been shocked by, the alteration in her appearance. Her whole figure was miserably wasted, and she grasped him with a strength feebler than a child's. Her countenance was hollow, ghastly pale, and mottled only by such touches of colour as indicate a spirit consuming equally with the body. Add to this, that her garments were scorched, and even in parts burned, by the flames through which she had made her way; and we may understand how much she differed from the beautiful and majestic creature, that had been deemed at Tezcuco, almost a being of another world.
"Cut my bonds, Magdalena," said Juan, eagerly, "or I must die in thine arms."
"Let it be so, Juan—We will die together," cried Magdalena, with a voice of transport, as if the prospect of such a climax to an unhappy fate filled her mind with actual delight. "Oh yes, Juan, so we will die, so we will die!" And she flung her arms about his neck, with tremulous fervour, smothering his voice of remonstrance and entreaty, until recalled to her wits by a loud howl from Befo. This faithful animal, limping yet with pain, but acting as if he understood the inability of Magdalena to give his master relief, now lifted up his voice, whining for further assistance; and in a few seconds the cry of another human being was heard, approaching with answering shouts, through the passage. But before they were yet heard, Magdalena sprang to her feet, and wrung her hands wildly, staring upon Juan as if upon a basilisk.
"Sister! sister! will you see me perish?" cried Juan. "Slip me but these knotted robes from my hands and feet, and I will save thy life. Befo! what Befo! canst thou not rive them to tatters with thy fangs?"
"I will free you, Juan,—yes, I will free you," said Magdalena, flinging herself upon her knees, and essaying with better zeal than wisdom to loose the knotted folds; "Yes, Juan, I will free you, and then bid you farewell—Yes, farewell, farewell—a lasting farewell."
But while she was muttering thus, and striving confusedly with the knots, a better assistance arrived in the person of the old Ottomi, who rushed in, yelling, "Fly! fly! The king waits for his brother," and cut the garments asunder with his macana.
Juan rose to his feet; but so long had he endured this benumbing bondage, that he was scarce able either to stand or move. There was no time, however, for hesitation. The flames were already devouring his couch, and darting over the cedar rafters of the ceiling. Befo whined and ran to the door, as if inviting his master to follow; and Techeechee did not cease to exhort him to hasten. Besides all this, there were now heard the cries of men and clashing of arms, as if the battle were raging even in the palace, and approaching the place of imprisonment.
"Magdalena, dear Magdalena—"
She flung herself into his arms, and embracing him, as if never to part from him more, she yet uttered, with wild sobbings,