an outrage on the sacredness of his majesty, and a slur on his power, which the council declared must be punished in the most prompt and effective manner, lest other provinces should follow the example. And yet the monarch had no stomach for the business. Ofttimes since these accursed strangers touched his shores would he willingly have resigned that which he above all feared to lose, his sceptre and his life; then again, as appetite returned and existence was loaded with affluent pleasure, he sighed to taste the sweets of power a little longer.
He was becoming sadly pusillanimous, an object of contempt before his gods, his nobles, and himself. It seemed to him as if the heavens had fallen on him and held him inexorably to earth. There was no escape. There were none to pity. He was alone.
His very gods were recreant, cowering before the approach of other gods. Repressing his misgivings as best he might, he issued orders for an immediate descent of the army on the offenders. Let the mettle of these beings be proven, and let them live or die with their Totonac allies. To this end let levies be made of men and money on a long-suffering people, whose murmurs shall be drowned in the groans of fresh victims on the sacrificial altar of the war god.3
See now how powerfully had wagged that little forked tongue of Cortés! See how those gentle whisperings that night at Quiahuiztlan, those soft
dissemblings breathed into the ears of two poor captives—see how they shot forth like winged swords to stop an army on the point of marching to its slaughters! Here, as in scores of other instances, Cortés’ shrewdness saved him from disaster.
For in the midst of the warlike preparations arrived the two released collectors, and their presentation of the magnanimity of the white chief, of his friendly conduct and warm assurances, materially changed the aspect of affairs.