find that on the 13th of August, the anniversary of the capture of the capital, the alleged conspiracy, was to break out. A national procession, in honor of the day, was to pass along the street of San Francisco and to return through that which now bears the name of Tacuba. Certain armed bands, convened under the pretext of military display, were to be stationed in the way, while, from a small turret in which he had concealed himself, Don Martin Cortéz, the son of the conqueror by the Indian girl Mariana, was to sally forth, and seize the royal standard, and being immediately joined by the armed bands, was, forthwith, to proclaim the Marques del Valle king of Mexico and to slay the oidores as well as all who should offer the least resistance.
Such was the story which the authorities had heard or feigned to have heard through their trusty spies. Nearly a month before the dreaded day, however, the Audiencia assembled, and requested the presence of the Marques del Valle, under the pretext that despatches had been received from the king of Spain, which, by his special order, were only to be opened in presence of the son of Cortéz. The Marques, who imagined no evil, immediately responded to the call of the oidores, and the moment he entered the hall the doors were guarded by armed men. Cortéz was ordered to seat himself on a common stool, while one of the functionaries
announced to him that he was a prisoner, in the name of the king. "For what?" eagerly demanded the Marques. "As a traitor to his Majesty!" was the foul reply. "You lie!" exclaimed Cortéz, springing from his seat, and grasping the hilt of his dagger;—"I am no traitor to my king,—nor are there traitors among any of my lineage!"
The natural excitement of the loyal nobleman subsided after a moment's reflection. He had been entrapped into the hands of the Audiencia, and finding himself completely, though unjustly, in their power, he at once resolved to offer no childish opposition, when resistance would be so