“I gathered it from the oracle, my love, and from omens which never deceive.”
“What oracle? What omens? I pray you explain?”
“The omens were their own troubled looks and clouded brows, while this strange negotiation was pending, and the guarded watchfulness, with which they now protect their guest, and prevent the intrusion upon his privacy of any considerable number of his friends, at the same time.”
“Prince Guatimozin, do I understand the import of those terrible words? Is my father already a prisoner in his own palace?”
“What else, my sweet cousin, seeing he cannot come forth, if he would, and we can only approach him by permission?”
“O ye gods! has it come to this? Fly, Guatimozin. Fly to Iztapalapan. I release you from your pledge. Sound the alarm throughout the realm. And, if need be, I will arm, and with you to the rescue.”
“Not so fast, brave princess; it is just this rashness that may endanger the precious head we would rescue. His life is safe at present; let us not put it to hazard, by moving too soon, or striking a useless blow.”
“But I see not yet, my dear cousin, how it is ascertained that my father is secure from further outrage. May it not be their policy to take away the head, hoping thus to dishearten and distract our people, and make them an easy prey to their victorious arms.”
“If so, they know not the spirit of the Aztec. To a man, throughout these broad realms, they would shed their last drop, to avenge the foul sacrilege, nor rest in their work of vengeance, till every altar in the land was drenched in the blood of the captive foe. But you forget that I have oracle as well as omen to sustain my faith.”
“What oracle has condescended, at last, to give us light? I thought they had all been silent, not deigning, since the advent of these mysterious strangers, any response to our prayers.”