him. Men rested from the slaughter to gaze at him. In the distance was heard the din of battle, but along the captive’s path there fell a hush. His was a striking figure. The grave, careworn face betokened suffering. He wore a dingy blood-stained robe, and the pallor which overspread a naturally fair face was yet more heightened by the feverish brilliancy of the eyes, now bent dejectedly on the ground, now looking straight before him. He walked with a firm step, and young as he was, the majestic dignity of the prince and leader impressed every beholder. “He was quite a gentleman,” graciously affirms Bernal Diaz. Cortés had stationed himself on the roof of a high building in the Amaxac ward,33 thence to direct operations, and now he caused a dais to be prepared, and a table with refreshments. When the emperor approached the guard drew up in line, and the general advanced with benign dignity and led him to a seat by his side. “Malinche,” said the captive, “I have done all within my power for the defence of my people, but the gods have not favored me. My empire is gone, my city is destroyed, and my vassals are dead. For what have I to live? Rid me therefore of worthless existence.”34 Saying this, with his hand he touched a dagger in the belt of Cortés. The general sought to reassure him, declaring that none could resist the Christian’s God. He had performed his duty bravely, like a good prince, and should be treated as such.
Although the great end was thus accomplished, slaughter and pillage were continued until long after vespers. Before the troops withdrew to their respective camps, the prisoners, including the pretty empress, Tecuichpo, were conducted to safe quarters in Coyuhuacan. Shortly afterward a rain set in, aiding the efforts of the Spaniards to check the auxiliaries in their maraudings, and this, developing toward midnight into a furious storm with lightning and thunder, seemed to the homeless Mexicans to be the xiuhcoatl of Huitzilopochtli and the tumult of departing deities. To the conquerors this flashing and thundering of heaven’s artillery was the salvo attending victory, which was celebrated in feasting and merriment till came late slumber with visions of gold, and lands, and vassals.