What Juan had said in relation to the cause of his confinement, was true, although he was not aware of the whole extent of the truth. In releasing him from impending death at Tezcuco, the young infidel did not doubt, in the simplicity of his heart, that he was adding a powerful engine of defence to his preparations, as well as requiting the obligation, which, he believed, had been the principal cause of Juan's downfall. He reckoned confidently upon Juan's desire for vengeance, the absence of which feeling, after wrongs so stirring and manifold, his nature did not allow him to anticipate; and he dwelt also, with the security of pride, upon the incentive offered in the love of the daughter of Montezuma. In this spirit of confidence, without much regarding Juan's previous averments, he introduced him to his assembled forces, upon the day of coronation, that all might know him, and respect him thenceforth as one honoured with the highest of titles—the king's brother. So far, all was well: the name of the Young Eagle was not wholly unknown to the Mexican warriors; and the sight of his manly figure, arrayed in a native cloak, his head crowned with a lofty penacho, put on by the king's hand, and the glittering axe of obsidian received from the same quarter, and grasped a moment with a military air, made an impression in his favour, that could only be obliterated by his own act of rejection. The spectacle was hailed with acclamations, and

Unfortunately, Juan, unwilling that any act should be interpreted as expressing his assent to take arms against his countrymen, immediately threw down the macana, and would even have taken the plumes from his head, had he not been arrested by Techeechee, and made sensible that such a proceeding would be followed by the most fatal consequences. The movement, however, had been observed by many of the nobles; and from that moment, Juan saw that he was watched by jealous and hostile eyes. His explicit and absolute refusal to take part in the conflicts, had convinced the young king of his error; yet, though greatly exasperated, he took such measures, from motives of honour or humanity, as protected the obdurate Christian from the daily increasing anger of his people. He confined him in the palace, and forbade even the ardent Zelahualla to go near him. In this he was actuated by suspicions, constantly inflamed by the Lord of Death, and not unnatural in themselves, that the young man had abused his credulity in the case of Magdalena. The love of the Indian maid, however, penetrated through guards and prison-doors; and Juan, almost as impatient of confinement and suspense as Magdalena herself, resolved to effect his escape, and by throwing himself upon the mercy of the Captain-General, make one effort to liberate his unhappy sister. The attempt was discovered and thwarted; and from that moment his confinement had been very rigid.

Still, however, the young infidel was wont frequently to visit him, after the combat of the day, in the hope of overcoming his scruples, or of gathering from his accidental expressions some hints that might be turned to advantage against the besiegers. On all such occasions, he refused to satisfy the prisoner's questions concerning his sister and the princess; giving him plainly to understand that nothing but the assumption of the pagan battle-axe, or positive counsels in his straits, which he did not attempt to conceal, could purchase a sight of either. In all these things, if the infidel acted with more crafty selfishness than generosity, he only proved that he belonged to his race. The whole conduct of Juan was, according to his scale of morals and honour, both unfriendly and unaccountable. He designed, this very night, to visit the prisoner, of which intention Juan was apprized; and hence his eagerness to dismiss the maidens from the chamber, before the conclusion of the attack upon the neighbouring dike, with the nature and objects of which he was well acquainted.

Before the maidens had departed, it was evident that the firing and other noises on the causeway were subsiding. Before they had been gone the full space of an hour, a heavy step rang in the passage, and the next moment the Indian monarch stood before the captive. He was singularly and sumptuously armed. From head to foot, his body was covered with a garment, perhaps of escaupil, fitting so tightly as to display his limbs to advantage; and over all was a coat of mail, consisting of copper spangles or scales, richly gilded, and stitched upon a shirt of dressed leather. His head was defended by a morion of the same metal, shaped not unlike to those of the Spaniards, and equally strong; and its ability to resist a violent blow was increased by the folds of a stout serpent, painted green, wreathing over its whole surface. A shield of tapir-skin, studded with copper nails, hung from his neck; and he bore a macana, which was stained with blood. He wore none of the emblems of royalty, and his appearance was only that of some highly distinguished noble. His eye was bright and fiery, his step firm and proud, but his aspect was thin and haggard.

"Has my brother heard the shouts of men near him, and does he yet say, 'Let me sleep?'" were the words with which he saluted the captive.

"Prince," said Juan, eyeing him anxiously and interrogatively, though speaking with positive emphasis, "as I told you before, so has it happened. The cannon were ready on the dike, the falconets were charged in the ships, and the men of Sandoval slept with swords and matches in their hands, and with their eyes open. Guatimozin does not come back a victor!"

"He comes back with a prisoner," said the prince, proudly; "and, to-morrow, the lord with red hair (Sandoval) will count the dead and weep, and Malintzin shall see the flames of sacrifice rising from the pyramid."

"Alas!" exclaimed Juan, "in condemning captives to this horrible death, against your will, for I know your heart is not cruel, you harden the soul of Cortes against you; and he will remember each sacrifice, when the day of surrender comes at last."

"Let it be harder than it is, what cares the Mexican who dies?" replied the king. "Does my brother think that I am weary, or that Malintzin can fight longer than I?"

"Think not to deceive me, prince—I know that already your altars and palaces are within reach of the cannon-shot—nay, of the musket-bullet—You are hemmed in, like a wild-cat on a tree—Your enemies are all round you, and they look into your eyes. Are not the water-suburbs already taken?"

"Why should I lie?" replied Guatimozin. "If you go to Tacuba, you will see the banks of the island—the city of the water is not there. If you look from Iztapalapan, the surges go rushing up towards the great temple—the houses are under the lake—If you look from the door of my dwelling, you will see the quarter of Tepejacac falling also into the lake. When Malintzin calls aloud in the morning, the lord of the red hair answers him, and Malintzin hears. Thus it is with Mexico; yet my brother sleeps, while I die, saying to his soul, 'It is all very just, for I sleep and see not.'"

"If I see not and help not, yet is my heart torn by your distresses," replied Juan, earnestly. "But why should I help? It would be a great sin upon my soul, and could do you no good. Listen to my counsel, Guatimozin: It is not yet too late. Cease to protract an unavailing resistance; send to Cortes with offers of submission, and be assured of reigning still, a king, though a vassal."

"Does Guatimozin fight to be a king?" said the infidel, with dignity. "He struck the Spaniard before he thought of a crown. He thinks not of palaces and fine garments, but says, 'Why should the people of Mexico be made slaves?' The king fights for Mexico."

"He will fight best for Mexico with peace. The kings of Tezcuco and Iztapalapan pay tribute to Mexico—are their people slaves? Thus shall it be with Mexico: the king shall give gold, as the tributary of Spain, and Mexicans shall remain in freedom."

"Will my brother prattle like Malintzin?" demanded the monarch, sternly. "Where is the freedom of Zempoala, of Tlascala, of Cholula? The people talk of it, while a Spaniard strikes them with a lash. Where is the freedom of Tezcuco? The young king, who is a boy, sits on the throne; but the Spaniard, whom my brother struck in the face with a sword, when he chased Olin-pilli, is there with him, and he robs and abuses the people, so that they have sent their tears to Malintzin. What was the fate of Montezuma? He sat in the Spaniards' house in chains, and the soldiers murdered his nobles, who danced in peace in the courtyard. What was the fate of Montezuma? The Spaniard, who is lord of the king of Tezcuco, would have done violence to the captive maiden—Does my brother remember?"

"Ay!" replied Juan, with the gleam of passion that visited his eyes, only when he spoke of Guzman: "I remember, and I hope yet to avenge—Sinner that I am, I cannot think it a crime, to covet the blood of this man!—But, prince, let me know—My captivity is very hard—Why should I not be allowed to speak with the princess? Why should my sister be hidden from me?"

The countenance of Guatimozin darkened.

"When my brother will fight for them, he shall be at liberty. My brother thinks again of the canoe at the bottom of the garden?"

Juan coloured, and said,

"You keep me a prisoner—I strove to escape. The king mocks me, to call me his brother."

"The warriors are very angry, yet the Great Eagle is alive. He cannot go among them in safety, unless as their friend."

"And who," said Juan, "shall warrant me of safety, if I go even as a friend?"

He deemed it now the period to commence acting upon his scheme of escape, yet hesitated, stung with shame at the thought of the duplicity to which he was descending.—"It is better to die on the dikes than to pine in the dungeon."

Guatimozin's eye gleamed with a sudden fire:

"Does my brother jest with me?" he said. "If my brother think it wrong to strike a Spaniard, he shall not be called upon to fight. He can teach me the things it is needful to know; and be in no fear."

"When did Guatimozin see me afraid?" cried Juan, stifling as well as he could the sense of humiliation and disgust, with which he began the office of a deceiver. "To give you counsel how to resist or attack, will make me as much a renegade as to draw sword at once. If I do become apostate, it shall be boldly, and with the sword. Prince, I have thought over this thing: my heart is grieved with your distress; and for my sister, and for Zelahualla, I will do what my conscience condemns. Does the king know what shall be my fate, if I am found fighting by the Spaniards?"

"Twenty chosen warriors shall circle my brother round about, and he shall keep aloof from the van of battle."

"If I fight, it shall be in the van," said Juan, his self-condemnation giving a character of sullenness to his tones. "But what, if I fall,—what shall become of my sister?"

"She shall be the sister of Guatimozin and of Zelahualla," said Guatimozin, with energy, yet with doubt; for he could hardly believe that Juan was speaking seriously.

"Let the king say this, and I will go out with him to battle:—If I die, he will cause my sister and the princess to be delivered into the hands of Cortes."

"The Spanish lady shall be sent to Malintzin; but the Centzontli shall remain with her brother the king. It is better she should die with him than dwell with the Spaniards. Why shouldst thou think it? Are there not more Guzmans than one?"

Juan muttered painfully to himself,

"Perhaps it is better. Heaven will protect her, for she has acknowledged her Redeemer.—Will the king swear, then, if his brother falls, that Magdalena shall be sent to the Spaniards?"

"He will swear," said Guatimozin, ardently. "It is better for the Spanish lady; for she knows not our speech, and she pines away with grief. And if the king prevails over his enemies, the king will remember what Juan says of her."

"Now, then, let the king tell me the truth, and mislead me not. How much longer can he maintain the city?"

"Till he is dead!—But he may soon die," he added, confidingly, for now he doubted no longer that he had gained his purpose. "My brother shall first teach me how to get food. The ships move about at night, and no canoe can reach the shore. The king sits down to eat with the warriors, and he eats no more—but the warriors cry all night for food."

"Good heaven!" said Juan, surveying the wasted cheeks of the monarch; "are you already so straitened? your garners already exhausted?"

"Who can reckon for so many mouths?" cried Guatimozin.

"I dreamed not of this—Sure, I have never been denied abundance!"

"My brother is a prisoner; and the women and children are feeble. Why should they want, when the warriors can endure hunger better?"

The communication of this painful intelligence nerved Juan more strongly in his purpose. He perceived the necessity of acting without delay, if he wished to protect the young infidel from the consequence of his own despairing fury, and the maiden of his love, and his sister, from a fate too dreadful to be imagined. His eagerness the more fully deluded the young monarch, not prone to suspicion where he loved, and he was soon made acquainted with the whole condition of the beleaguered city, and the situation of the Spaniards. He was also instructed in the particulars of a design of Guatimozin, to be practised upon the ensuing day, the boldness of which, as well as its strong probabilities of success, both astonished and dismayed him. He perceived that perhaps the fate of the entire Spanish army depended upon the course he might pursue, and his honour and feelings seemed all to call upon him for some exertion to arrest the impending destruction.

When he had been made acquainted with all that Guatimozin thought fit to divulge, and had again and again repeated his resolution to take arms and accompany the Mexicans against his countrymen, the king embraced him with great warmth, promising to provide him with a good Spanish sword and helmet from among the spoils; but recommending that, in all other respects, he should assume the guise of a Mexican.

When these arrangements were completed, he turned to depart, and yet seemed loath to go. Finally, he took Juan by the arm, and said,

"To-night the king will sleep by the side of his brother: we will wake in the morning and go out together."

"Why will not the king speak kind things to the queen? It will rejoice her to look upon the king."

"Has she not a little sick babe by her side? and are they not very wretched?" said Guatimozin, exposing, without reserve, the miseries preying upon his own bosom, and abandoning himself to a grief that seemed to mock the greatness of his station. "When I look upon them," he said, "I am no longer the king who thinks of Mexico and the people, but a man with a base heart, who cries, 'Why am not I a prisoner and a slave, that my little child may be saved, and his mother protected from the famine that is coming?' The king should not think these things,—he should not look upon his household, but his country."

"Go, notwithstanding," said Juan, touched still further by the distresses of the infidel. "Comfort them with your presence, and let their sufferings admonish you of the only way to end them. It is not too late to submit."

"Is this the way my brother begins the duties of a Mexican?" said Guatimozin. "The gods tell me to die, not yield. I fight for Mexico,—not for the wife and child of Guatimozin."

With these words, and having banished all traces of weakness and repining, he left Juan to slumber, or to weigh, in painful anticipation, the risks and uncertainties of his projected enterprise.