“Said I not, my beloved, that I would yet lead you back in triumph to the royal halls of your ancestors? I have come to redeem my pledge. Shrink not from a station which no other can so well adorn. Rather, far rather would I, if I could, retire with you to the quiet shades of private life, and find a home in some sweet glen among the mountains, than wear the crown and claim the homage of a world. But, my sweet cousin, the crown must be defended, the throne must be sustained against the insolent pretensions of these strangers. And I must do my part in the defence. I dare not, either as monarch or as subject, withhold myself from this great work. If I perish, I fall in the service of my country and her altars. And the higher the station I hold, the greater the service I render—the heavier the burden I bear, the brighter the honors I shall win. As well perish on the throne, as fighting at its foot. I should be unworthy of the daughter of Montezuma, if I held any thing too dear to sacrifice on the shrine of my country.”
“Noble Guatimozin, my heart is yours—my life is devoted only to you. Lead me where you will, so that I can share your burdens, and lighten your cares, and not prove unworthy of such a father and such a lord. But you forget that mine is a doomed life, that oracles and omens, signs and presages, have all conspired against me from my birth.”
“Nay, my love, it is you that forget, not I. For the very oracles and omens that foreshadowed for you a clouded morning, promised with equal distinctness a bright and glorious evening. The tempestuous morning is passed. The glorious mid-day and the golden evening are yet to come.”
“You are quite too fast, I fear, my brave cousin, it was only the evening that was to have light. The sunset hour of life was to be clear. But what, my dear Guatimozin, what do you suppose that light is to be? and whence shall it come?”
“What can it be, but to restore, in your own person and family, the disputed pre-eminence of the Aztec dynasty, the tarnished glory of its crown. Rely upon it, my gentle cousin, that is your destiny. The timid dove of Chapoltepec shall be transformed to the royal eagle of Tenochtitlan.”
“That cannot be. I rather fear that the deep cloud of my doom will overshadow and darken your life. Better far that I should suffer and perish alone.”
“It must be, Tecuichpo, it shall be. Have not the gods given you to me? Have they not made me the defender of the Aztec throne? How then can you doubt that they call you to share and adorn it?”
“Oh! my lord! those terrible omens—they are but half fulfilled, and the promised light is yet far in the distance. Could I be sure that you would share that light with me——.”
“Come then with me to the palace. It will be all light for me when you are there, and sure I am that time will re-interpret those sad omens for you, and turn them all to sunshine.”
Suddenly the palace of Chapoltepec was changed from a house of mourning to a house of feasting. The nuptial rites of the youthful Emperor with the beautiful princess, were celebrated with great pomp. The festivities continued through several days, and were honored by the presence of all the nobility of the empire. The most costly entertainment was provided for the numerous guests. The most munificent royal largesses were bestowed upon the priests, and upon those who took a prominent part in the grand ceremonies, and gifts of great value lavishly distributed among all the inferior attendants. The brilliant and odoriferous treasures of the royal gardens, and of the chinampas of the great lake were exhausted in adorning the halls and chambers of the palace. The refined taste, and exquisite invention of Karee was every where apparent. The place, on the day of the nuptials, might have been taken for the realm and palace of Flora. The very air was redolent of the incense of flowers, which brightened the day with their bloom, and of the odoriferous gums, whose blaze extended the reign of day far into the realms of night.