sovereign. Nothing, then, remained for him but an assault, and, as may readily be imagined, the carnage in this combined attack of Spaniards and confederate Indians was indescribably horrible. The long endurance of the Aztecs; their prolonged resistance and cruelty to the Spaniards; the dreadful sacrifice of the captives during the entire period of the siege; the memory of the first expulsion, and the speedy hope of golden rewards, nerved the arms and hearts of these ferocious men, and led them on, in the work of revenge and conquest, until the sun sunk and night descended on the tragic scene.
On the 13th of August, 1521, the last appeal was made by Cortéz to the Emperor for a surrender of his capital. After the bloody scenes of the preceding day, and the increased misery of the last night, it was not to be imagined that even insane patriotism or savage madness could induce the sovereign to refrain from
saving, at least, the unfortunate non-combatants who still were loyal to his throne and person. But the judgment of the conqueror was wrong. "Guatemozin would die where he was!" was the reply of the royal stoic.
Again the infuriate troops were let loose, and again were the scenes of the day before re-enacted on the bloody theatre. Many escaped in boats by the lake; but the brave or reckless Guatemozin, who seems, at the last moment, to have changed his mind as to perishing, was taken prisoner and brought, with his family, into the presence of Cortéz. As soon as his noble figure and dignified face were seen on the azotéa or terraced roof, beside the conqueror, the battle ceased. The Indians beheld their monarch captive! And she who had witnessed the beginning of these adventures,—who had followed the fortunes of the General through all their vicissitudes—the gentle but brave Indian girl—Mariana—stood by the intrepid Cortéz to act as his interpreter in this last scene of the splendid and eventful drama.