Compared with his present condition, how dignified and happy death would have been by the hands of his brother priests, before the gods, in the eyes of the nation, on the sacred sacrificial stone! Or, like that among the Massagetæ, told of by Herodotus, who sacrificed and ate their old people, holding natural death a misfortune—even this or any other stepping down and out would have been preferable to thus dying like a silly hare in a trap!
He refused food and any attention to the wounds, which were far from fatal. He tore off the bandages, threw from him all medicines, and bared his body to disease, even as his soul had been long since bared, and stretched out his hand to hasten the cold stony grasp of death. What a farce was life, and honor, and majesty, all to end in poverty and disgrace! Feeling the all-changing moment at hand, he summoned Cortés; for despite his long maltreatment he entertained a kind of affection for the monster, who might even yet prove to be the demi-god of some far away incomprehensible world. Moreover, the Spaniard’s intellect and arm were the stronger; he was his son-in-law and probable successor; therefore, though his jailer, he would speak
with him. And when he came Montezuma said: “The end for me approaches, Malinche; it is even here. You cannot harm me further, nor help me if you would. I have given you all; you have taken all—my liberty, my kingdom, my life, and that which is more to me than kingdom, liberty, or life, the affection of my people, the love of my counsellors and friends; and respect—respect of self, and that sacred respect which, living or dead, is mine by inheritance, and by virtue of my office. But I would not upbraid you; I pray only that my ruin will benefit you; I beg of you care for my children, and I conjure you to avenge me on my rebel subjects and their leaders.”5
Moved by the touching appeal, Cortés promised all that was asked of him, while remonstrating with the monarch for rejecting food and