“Trouble me not with the dreams of Karee, my sweet child. They are not always as loyal as they should be. I believe I am right in what I am now doing, and I cannot be diverted from it by the mystic night visions of your favorite. Go, and the gods be with you.”
So saying, he tore himself from her embrace, and returned to his own apartments to attire himself for the removal.
The fiery, high spirited Guatimozin was so disgusted with this act of suicidal cowardice, on the part of his royal master, that he withdrew at once from the city, taking with him his servants and retainers, as well as his immense private treasures, and took up his abode at his country palace or castle, where he lived in all the pseudo-regal state and magnificence of a feudal baron, or a petty sovereign. Here he opened a correspondence with a large number of the principal nobles of the realm, who, like him, felt that the time had come to prepare for a terrible crisis. They concerted no measures, for they dared not move openly without the command or assent of their master; but they exchanged sentiments, and encouraged each other in their patriotic purpose, to defend their country from subjugation to a foreign foe, and their altars from desecration.
Passing Chapoltepec on his way, the noble Prince sought an interview with his lovely mistress, to inform her that, while the pledge he had given, in accepting the proffered rose, over the sparkling fountain of Tenochtitlan, should be sacredly regarded, he must be allowed to see with his own eyes, when danger was near, and to raise his arm in her defence, and in that of his country, from whatever quarter the threatened danger might come. He found her, bathed in tears, wandering wildly up and down, amid the shade of the tall cypresses that overhang and almost bury that mountain retreat. Her raven hair had escaped from its pearl-studded band, and was flying loosely in the breeze; the wonted bloom was gone from her cheek, and the brilliant lustre of her dark flashing eye had given way to a sad and subdued expression, which was more in keeping with the uniform mildness and gentleness of her spirit. Separated from her adored parent, and banished from the city of her love and her pride, she began to feel more deeply than she had ever done, the terror of those dark omens which had clouded her destiny, and marked her out as the doomed Princess of Anahuac. While she could cling to her father, and feel that she was to share all that might befal him, and perhaps, by sharing it, extract some portion of the bitterness from the cup which he was compelled to drink, she was calm and hopeful. But now, the sheet-anchor of her soul was gone, and she was drifting, at the mercy of the waves, she knew not whither.
“My sweet cousin,” said Guatimozin gently, as he arrested her flying step, “why this sudden abandonment to grief and despair. Dark as the clouds may be over our heads, all is not lost. Know you not, my love, that ten thousand times ten thousand brave hearts and strong arms are pledged, by every bond of loyalty and love, to rush to the rescue, the moment that any violence is offered to the sacred person of our lord. Be assured not a hair of his head shall be touched.”
“Ah! my brave Guatimozin! I know full well your courage and your zeal. But of what avail to us will be the direst vengeance your arms can wreak on the strangers, after the violence is done, and the honored head of my father—oh! that I should live to speak it!—laid low at their feet!”
“Fear not, my beloved, they dare not, with all their boasted power, they dare not lay a rude hand upon that sacred person. They know, they feel, that they are treading on a mighty volcano, that may burst out at any moment, and overwhelm them in hopeless destruction. It is this sense of impending danger only that has induced them to invite the Emperor to their quarters, and so to urge their suit, that he could not, as their professed friend, deny it. While he is there, they will feel safe, for his hand alone can stay the pent up fires, that they break not forth at once. Fear not. I go to-night to Iztapalapan, to confer with your royal uncle, the intrepid Cuitlahua. The noble Cacama joins us there, convinced already that his was a mistaken policy, when he counselled your father to receive the strangers courteously, and treat them as friends.”
“And what can Cacama do?”
“That is yet to be seen. He is convinced of his error, and is ready to atone for it with his life. With Cacama, with Cuitlahua, with a thousand more like them—chiefs who never feared danger, and never knew defeat—why should we despair, or even doubt?”
“But how know you, Guatimozin, that these Castilian strangers regard their own safety as any way involved in that of Montezuma?”