Are the refinements and delicate sensibilities of the spirit confined to
the highborn and polished? They are undoubtedly the offspring of nature:
Education supplies their place only by the substitutes of affectation.
Though poverty may crush, though wretchedness and evil habits may
corrupt and extinguish them, yet they throb in the breasts of the lowly,
during the days of youth, and are not always banished even by the
rigours of manhood. They dwell under the painted lodge of the barbarian,
and they burn even in the heart of the benighted heathen.
Let us fancy the moonlight streaming over the lake of Tezcuco. The moon
is in her first quarter, and the evening-star, almost her rival in
lustre and magnitude, precedes her in the blue paths of the west. The
golden radiance of sunset trembles no more on the mountain peaks; but
the thin vapours floating through the zenith, are yet gleaming faintly
with the last expiring glories of day. The birds are at rest in the
garden of Mexico,--all save the little madrugadores, that yet chirp
merrily in the trees, and the centzontli, who leaves her ravishing
melody, to mock them with their own music, made yet more musical. The
breeze sleeps among the boughs, or it stirs only through the poplar
leaves, and its rustling sound is mingled with the hum of a thousand
nocturnal insects. In such a night, one forgets that man is not an
angel. We see not the frown of malevolence in the sky; we hear not the
step of the betrayer on the grass; nor does the dew-drop, falling from
the leaf, admonish us of the tears that are streaming, hard by, in
sorrow. In such a night, the feelings of the kind are kindest, the
thoughts of the pure, purest; youth gathers about it the mantle of hope,
and hope whispers in the voice of affection. At such a time, it is good
to look into the hearts of the youthful, and forget the excitements of
years. A draught from the waters of Clitorius was fabled to extinguish
the thirst for wine.[10] He who can creep into the bosoms of the young,
and drink of the fountain of innocent affections, will turn with
loathing from the impure and maddening currents, that convert the human
family into a race of moral Bacchanals.
[Footnote 10:
Clitorio quicunque sitim de fonte levarit
Vina fugit.
_Metam. Lib._ XV.]
Can we think that among the worshippers of the ferocious Mexitli, and
the fierce invaders of his people, there were none with natures worthy
of a better belief, and a nobler cause? Destiny had thrown together two,
at least, whose spirits were but little tainted with the evil of their
place and their day,--in whom, perhaps, feeling rather than reason, had
set a talisman that left them incorruptible. A good heart is to man what
the galvanic bar of the philosopher was to the ship's copper-sheathing.
It gives this protection, at least, that, through the whole voyage of
life, it preserves the integrity of the vessel. The barnacle and the
remora will indeed deaden its course, but the metal remains clean and
bright: the billows of the world waste their corrosive powers only on
the protector. Morality itself is two-fold; it is of the head, and of
the heart. The first belongs to the philosopher, the second to the poet.
The one is an abstraction of reason; the other an exhortation of
passion. The morality of the head is the only one that is just; but it
is loveliest and best when the heart enforces its precepts. With good
hearts, Juan Lerma and the princess of Mexico, moved among the
corruptions of superstition, uncorrupted; and preserved to themselves,
unabated and unsullied, the pure and gentle feelings, which nature had
showered upon them at their birth.
The moon, falling aslant upon the garden, lighted the countenances of
the young Spanish exile and the orphan child of Montezuma, as they
rested upon the summit of a little artificial mound, ornamented with
carved stone seats and rude statuary, constructed for the purpose of
overlooking the walls. The visage of the Christian was illumined by
pensive smiles, and his lips breathed gently and fervently the accents
that were sweetest to the ears of the Indian maiden. But did he
discourse of worldly affection and passion to one so ignorant and
artless? A nobler spirit animated the youth. He spoke of the faith of
Christians, and laboured with more than the zeal, though not perhaps
with the wisdom of the missionary, to impress its divine truths upon the
mind of his hearer. If his arguments were somewhat less cogent and
logical than might have been spoken, it must be remembered that his
religion was like that which will perhaps belong to the majority of
Christians to the end of the world,--a faith of the heart, which the
head has not been accustomed to canvass.
He directed her eyes to the moon, to the evening star, and to those
other celestial wanderers, by which the heart of man was 'secretly
enticed,' even before the days of the perfect man of Uz.
"They are the little bright heroes that hang down from the house of
Ometeuctli, king of the city of heaven," said the poor infidel,--"all
save Meztli," (the moon) "who is the king of night, brother of
Tonatricli," (the sun) "god of the burning day. This is what they say of
the two gods: There were men on the earth, but wicked: the ancient gods,
the sons of Ipalnemoani killed them. Then Ometeuctli sent forth from the
city of heaven his sons, who descended to Mictlan,--the dark hell,--by
the road that leads between the Fighting Mountains, and the Eight
Deserts,--and stole the bones of men, that Mictlanteuctli had heaped up
in his cavern. The sons of Ometeuctli sprinkled the bones with their
blood; and these men lived again, and the sons of Ometeuctli were their
rulers and fathers. But the earth was dark,--it was night over the
world, and the only light was the fire which they kindled and kept
burning in the vale of Teotihuacan. The sons of Ometeuctli pitied the
men they had revived; and, to give them light, they burned themselves in
the fire. Ometeuctli, their father, then placed them in the
sky,--Tonatricli the first born, to be the sun, Meztli to be the moon,
and the others to be stars. So they hang in heaven, turned to fire: and
men built pyramids to them, on the place of burning, Micoatl, the Field
of Death.[11] They are very good gods, for they shine upon us."
[Footnote 11: The vale of San Juan de Teotihuacan, where stand the great
pyramids of the Sun and Moon, and the smaller mounds erected to the
Stars.]
"Forget these idle fables," said Juan, with a gentleness much more
judicious than any zeal could have been. "Forget, too, Mexitli,
Painalton, Quetzalcoatl, Centeotl, and the thousand vain beings of
imagination, with which your priests have peopled the world. Think only
of the great _Teotl_, whom you have called Ipalnemoani,--the great God,
the only God,--for there is no other than He, and the rest are but
fables. Yonder moon and stars are not divinities, but great globes like
this on which we live; and to worship them is a sin--it angers
Ipalnemoani, who is the only God,--the Creator,--whom all men worship,
though under different names. Worship but Ipalnemoani, and in mode as I
will tell thee, and thou art already almost a Christian."
"But is not Christ another god of the Spaniards?" said the maiden,
doubtfully.
"The Son of God, a portion of God, and God himself," replied the
Christian, launching at once into all the theological metaphysics with
which he was acquainted, and succeeding in confounding the mind of the
poor barbarian, without being very sensible of the confusion of his own.
But if he could not teach her how to distinguish between categories, not
reducible to order and consistency by the poor aids of human language,
he was able to interest her in the fate and character of the divine
Redeemer, by no other means than that of relating his history. And it is
this, to which men must chiefly look for instruction, belief, and
renovation, without reference to dogmas and creeds; for here all find
the unanimity of belief and feeling, which entitles them to the claims
of fraternity.
When Juan had excited her sympathy in the character of the Messiah, he
began to discourse upon the object and the ends of his mission. But
unfortunately the doctrine of original sin, with which he set out, had
in it something extremely repugnant to the rude ideas of the child of
nature. It inferred a native wickedness in all, to be banished only by
belief; and it seemed at once to place _her_ in an humble and degraded
light, in the eyes of the young Christian.
"What has Zelahualla done," she said, with maidenly pride, "that the
king's brother should make her out wicked?"
At this application of the doctrine, Juan was somewhat staggered in his
own belief. He looked at the mild eyes of the catechumen, beaming as
from a spirit without stain and without guile, and he said to himself,
'How can this be? for she has known no sin?' His imagination wandered
among the moral and religious precepts stored in his memory, and settled
at last with the triumph of a controversialist, as well as the
satisfaction of a Christian, upon the first rules of the
decalogue,--broken in ignorance, and therefore he doubted not, easily
atoned. He told her that the worship of false gods was a sin, and homage
shown to idols of wood and stone a deep iniquity; and these being common
to all benighted people, he satisfied himself, and perhaps her, that
they were unanswerable proofs of the existence of natural depravity. But
a stronger light was thrown upon the maiden's mind, when he showed its
effects in the scene of bloodshed, commenced long since in the days of
her sire, and now about to be terminated in a war of massacre.
"He of whom I speak," he said, "came into the world, in order that these
things should cease. He offers men peace and good-will; and when men
acknowledge him and follow his commands, peace and good-will will reign
over the whole world. Think not, because my countrymen are sometimes
unjust, and often cruel, that our divine Leader is the less divine.
These are the wickednesses of their nature, not yet removed by full or
just belief; for the belief of some is insufficient, of others
perverted, and some, though they profess it, have no belief at all.
Know, then, that our religion, justly considered, and with a pure mind
not selfish, has its great element in _affection_. It teaches love of
heaven, and, equally love of man. It denounces the wrong-doer, who is as
a fire, burning away the cords that bind men together in happiness; and
it exalts the good man, who unites his fellows in affection. It punishes
vicious deeds and forbids evil thoughts; for with these, there can be no
happiness and peace. This it does upon earth; and it prepares for the
world beyond the grave, in which no human passion or infirmity can
disturb the perfect purity and enjoyment, of which the immortal spirit
is capable."
Thus he conversed, and thus, guided by the native bias of his mind,
dwelt upon that feature of our heavenly faith, of which it requires no
aid of enthusiasm to perceive the amiableness and beauty. "_Peace and
good-will to all!_"[12] There is a charm in the holy sentence, at once
the watchword and synopsis of religion, that thrills to the hearts even
of those, who, to obtain the base immortality of renown, are willing to
exchange it for the war-cry of the barbarian, the _Vae victis!_ of a
hero.
[Footnote 12: According to the Vulgate, the good tidings of great joy
offered peace only 'to men of good-will,'--_pax hominibus bonae
voluntatis_,--which, whether the translation be right or wrong,
undoubtedly destroys the sublimity of the conception, by narrowing down
the benevolence of the deity, and deprives of the blessing of peace that
majority of men, who, _not_ being men of good-will, have the greatest
need of it.]
Thus far, then, the heart of the Indian maiden was softened, and
tears,--not of penitence, for it never entered her mind that she had
anything to repent,--tears of gentle and pleasurable emotion stole into
her eyes, as she listened to tenets explained by one so revered and
beloved.
"The religion that my lord loves, is good; and Zelahualla shall know no
other."
"God be praised for this then," said Juan, fervently; "for now is the
desire of my heart fulfilled, mine errand accomplished; and I will die,
when I am called, cheerfully; knowing that thou wilt follow me to
heaven. Now do I perceive that heaven works good in our misfortunes. The
miseries that I have lamented,--the hatred of Don Hernan, the malice of
my foes, my downfall, my condemnation,--what were they but the steps
which have led me to effect thy conversion and salvation? God be praised
for all things! and God grant that the seeds of the true faith, now sown
in thy heart, may grow and flourish, till transplanted into paradise!"
Thus saying, Juan fell upon his knees, and invoked blessings upon the
proselyte, who knelt beside him, confirmed greatly in her new creed by
the evident pleasure her conversion, if it could be so called, had given
him.
"Know now, Zelahualla," he said, as he raised her from the ground, and
folded her in an embrace that had more of the gentle affection of a
brother, than the ardent passion of a lover, "that now thou art dearer
to me than all the world beside. While thou wert a worshipper of idols,
I wept for thee; now that thou art a Christian, I love thee; and through
this storm of war, that is gathering around thee, I will remain to
protect thee, and, if need be, to perish by thy side."
"What my lord is, that will I be," said the young princess, with such
looks of confiding affection as belong to the unsophisticated child of
nature--"Yes, Zelahualla will be a Christian,--Juan's Christian,"--for
she had been long since instructed to pronounce the name of her young
friend--"and she will think of none but him--"
She paused suddenly, and disengaged herself from the arms of the
Castilian, who, looking round, beheld almost at his side, surveying him
with manifest satisfaction, the young king of Mexico. The gorgeous
mantles of state were upon his shoulders, the golden sandals and
_copilli_, or crown, bedecked his feet and head; and though no
sceptre-bearers or other noble attendants followed at his heels, his
appearance was not without dignity, and even majesty.
He stepped forward, and taking the princess by the hand, said to Juan,
"The Centzontli is the king's sister;--thus said I, when Montezuma lived
no more; for the Spaniards have killed the sons of the king, and who
remains to be her brother? It is enough--the Eagle of the east is the
king's brother.--The king will speak with his brother."
At this signal, the maiden stooped humbly over Guatimozin's hand, kissed
it with mingled love and respect, and immediately stole from the mound.
"My brother beheld me among my people," said Guatimozin, as soon as she
was gone. "What thinks he of the warriors of Mexico?"
"They are numerous as the sands and leaves. But hear the words of him
who knows the Spaniards as well as the Mexicans. Before a blow is
struck, speak good things to Cortes. Acknowledge thyself the vassal of
Spain, and rule for ever."
"Is my brother yet a Spaniard? and does he tell me this thing?"
"If I anger thee, yet must I speak! for I speak with the heart of one
grateful to thyself and friendly to the race of Montezuma. As a true
Spaniard, I should counsel thee to resist; for resistance would excuse
rapacity. How wilt thou fight upon this island, with thine enemies round
about thee? They will sit down and sleep, while the king perishes with
hunger."
"The houses are garners," replied Guatimozin, proudly: "There is food
provided for many days; and how shall the big ships see the peasant's
canoe, when it brings corn in the night-time?"
"The lake is broad, but thou knowest not of all the craft and skill of
thy foes. Think then of _this_: Can a man drink the water of the salt
lake and canals? Are the pipes of Chapoltepec under the mountains? The
Spaniards will tear them up from the causeways; and the warriors will
despair for drink."
"Is Guatimozin a fool?" exclaimed the royal barbarian, with a laugh.
"The rains have begun to fall; and for seven[13] months, the sky will be
my fountain. Is not Malintzin mad, that he should besiege me at this
season? He is not a god!"
[Footnote 13: Mexican months, of twenty days each.]
"Were it for thrice seven months," said Juan, "be assured that Cortes
will still remain by thy city, awaiting its downfall."
"And what shall be done by the warriors of Mexico? Will they look from
the island, and wring their hands, till he departs? For every grain of
corn in the garners of Tenochtitlan, there is an arrow in the quivers of
the warriors. Count the bones that lie in the ditches of Tacuba,--number
the bearded skulls that are piled on the Huitzompan, the trophies
gathered from the Spaniards in the night of their flight,--there are not
so many living men in the camp of Malintzin, as perished that night when
we drove them from Mexico."
"Dost thou hold, then, for nothing the two hundred thousand Tlascalans,
Tezcucans, Chalquese, Totonacs, and other tribes, that follow with
Cortes?"
"There are but three roads to Mexico.--Can they hurt me from the
shores?"
"The ships are fourteen more; and by and by, there will be no canoe that
swims the lake, but will bear the soldiers of Don Hernan. Think not
resistance can do aught but protract the fate of thine empire, and
incense the miseries of its subjects. Its history is written. Heaven is
angry with your gods and with your acts. The blood of human sacrifices,
detestable in the eyes of divinity, calls for revenge. Alas, thou didst
this day condemn a poor Spaniard to the altar, and thus stain thine
installation with cruelty! God will punish the Mexicans for this."
The eyes of Guatimozin flashed in the moonlight with indignation.
"Is not the prisoner," he cried, "the prey of the victor? The Spaniard
burns the captive in the shoulder, and makes him a slave. Which is
cruel? The prisoner and the felon we give to the gods--it is good. Did
the Eagle ever behold a Mexican chain men to a stake, and burn them with
fire? Yet he saw Malintzin burn the Chief of Nauhtlan and the fifteen
warriors, in the palace-yard, in a great fire made with Mexican bows and
arrows! Which, then, is cruel?"
"This act I will not defend," said Juan, "and it was my presumption in
censuring it, that made Cortes my enemy. But, prince, let us speak of
these things no more, for our arguments shake not each other's minds.
Let me speak of myself, for it is just thou shouldst know my resolve. I
am thy friend, but I will not lift my hand against my countrymen."
The countenance of the king darkened:
"Is not the Great Eagle brave? He fears his enemies!"
"I fear _nothing_," said Juan, with conscious dignity, "else would I
speak no words to lose thy favour. I will be thy prisoner, thy
sacrifice, if thou wilt.--I lament the fate that is coming upon thee,
but I cannot fight in thy cause."
Guatimozin eyed him earnestly, as if to read his soul; and then said, a
little softly,
"The Great Eagle knows all things: he shall rest in the palace all day,
and at night, speak wise things to the king."
"Neither in this can I aid thee," replied Juan, resolutely. "What I know
of religion and moral duties,--nay, all that I know of civilized arts,
that are not military,--this much I am free to communicate; but nothing
more. I can no more help thee to fight with my knowledge, than with my
arm."
This was a declaration of principles somewhat above the powers of the
infidel to appreciate, and it filled him, as Juan saw, with serious
displeasure. He took him by the arm, and spoke sternly and even
menacingly:
"The faith of a Christian is not that of a Mexican. The Indian kills his
foes and the foes of his friend: the Christian forgets his friend, when
his friend is in trouble."
Juan was stung by the reproach, and replied with emphasis:
"The king took me from the prison-house of Tezcuco: the block was in
waiting for me. Who talked to me of prisons and of blocks, before Olin
came to the garden?"
Guatimozin grasped his hand, and spoke with impetuosity,--
"I have said the thing that was false, and my brother does _not_ forget
his friend. He did a good deed to Olin; why should he turn his face from
Guatimozin? Was Olin in greater distress than the king, beset by enemies
who cannot be counted? My brother has looked in the face of the
Centzontli, my sister.--The princes of the city, and the kings of the
tribes, have said, each one, 'Give me the daughter of Montezuma, and I
will die for Mexico.' But the king thought of his brother. Thus it shall
be: the Great Eagle shall take the princess for his wife, and be a
Mexican; and then, when Guatimozin entreats him to strike his foe, he
will call upon his god of the cross,--the Mexitli of the Spaniards,--and
strike with all his force. Is it not so?"
"Prince!" said Juan, sadly, "even this cannot be. According to our
thoughts, there are sins of the deepest turpitude in acts which your
customs cause you to esteem virtues. The Spaniard may change his
country, but he cannot become the foe of his countrymen. What wouldst
thou think of one of thine own people,--thy friend, thy subject--whom
thou shouldst find among the Spaniards, and aiming his weapon against
thee?"
"There are many thousands of them," said Guatimozin, giving way to
passion. "Malintzin fights with weapons more destructive than the big
thunder-pipes. He goes among the serfs that pay tribute, and he says,
'Pay no more--Is it not better to be free?' Thus he seduces them. But my
brother shall think of this again. And now he shall eat and sleep."
So saying, and perhaps thinking it unwise to pursue his designs at the
present moment, he drew Juan from the mound, and was leading him towards
the palace, when the sound of voices and footsteps came from the bottom
of the garden, accompanied by the fierce barking of Befo, who was still
confined in the cage.
"Now do I remember me," said Juan, with a feeling of shame, "that I have
suffered the noble animal--"
But his words were cut short by an unexpected circumstance. No sooner
had his voice sounded, than a wild cry burst from a neighbouring copse,
and a female figure, pursued by Mexican warriors, rushed forwards,
calling upon him by name, and by a title that had never before blessed
his ears.
"Juan! Juan! my brother! oh, my brother!"
It was Magdalena,--her hair disordered and drooping in the damp air of
evening, her face, as far as it could be seen in the imperfect light,
pale and distracted. No sooner did her eyes behold him than she
redoubled her speed, and throwing herself upon his neck, she cried, with
transports of emotion, while the pursuers gathered round in no little
amazement.
"Oh, Juan! my brother! pardon me and forgive me; for I am your
sister,--yes, your sister, your own sister,--and I have come to die with
you!"
Confounded as much by the strange declaration as by her presence, Juan
endeavoured gently to disengage himself from her embrace, but all in
vain. She clasped his neck with tenfold strength, weeping and exclaiming
he scarce knew what; and, though much affected, he began to think that
sorrow and passion had turned her brain. What therefore was his
surprise, when he gathered from her incoherent exclamations, that
Camarga, the masking stranger, who had, on three several occasions,
betrayed such an unaccountable desire to take his life, had, even with
his dying lips, pronounced them brother and sister. His heart thrilled
at the thought; for his affection for the singular being whose destiny
of mourning was so like his own, had ever been great, though chilled and
pained by the belief of her unworthiness. He pursued the idea with a
thousand questions, the answers to which provoked his curiosity, while
they damped his hope. Was Camarga their father? and was he dead? What
did he say? What,--no more than _this_--'He was her brother?' No more?
And no one alive to confirm the story? "Alas," he said, his thoughts
reverting to what he remembered of his childhood; "this fancy has made
me as distracted as thyself. Camarga was a dreamer--an evident madman.
_My_ father died at Isabela in the island; for was not I at his side?
This cannot be, Magdalena;--deceive thyself no longer."
"Speak not to me of deceit, my brother--for my brother thou art," said
Magdalena, vehemently. "Can my heart deceive me? Is it not the work of
heaven, seen in our whole life? Heaven kept thee--yes, Juan, while
heaven punished _me_ the sin of neglected vows with the torments of
unavailing affection--it kept thee from loving me as much, because thou
wert my brother. Yes, this it is! The angels spoke with the lips of that
man, who now lies dead on the lake-side! But what of that, Juan? We will
go to Cortes--I can win thy forgiveness. Alas, alas! I could have saved
thee before, but thou madest me mad. Why didst thou treat me so, Juan? I
was innocent--indeed I was; and Hilario's recantation--oh believe me, I
knew not of his murder, till it was accomplished! Villafana killed him
from fear, for Hilario had discovered how he scuttled the ship; and thus
it was that Hilario gained Villafana to corroborate the falsehoods he
spoke of me. I can make all clear to thee, indeed I can.--But now, dear
Juan, cast me not off again,--for you are my brother. We will go to
Cortes,--he will pardon thee. We will find out the friends of Camarga,
and it must needs be that we shall discover all. And then I will go to a
convent again,--and then I care not what befalls me; for I shall have a
brother in the world left to love me."
While Magdalena was pouring forth these wild expressions, for a time
almost unconscious of her situation in the heart of the pagan city, and
in the presence of so many barbarians, Guatimozin, who had looked on
with an astonishment that was soon converted into the darkest
displeasure, turned to the capturers of Magdalena, who had ceased their
pursuit the moment they beheld the king, and flung themselves reverently
at his feet. The Lord of Death, who made the like prostration, had
assumed an erect posture, in virtue of his high rank. But his looks
wandered from the king to the Christian pair, whose endearments he
watched with exceeding great satisfaction, and indeed with exultation.
"What is this that I see?" said the king, in a low but stern voice; "and
who hath brought this woman to my garden?"
Masquazateuctli bent his head to the earth, replying with the
complacency of one who has achieved a happy exploit,--
"The king made the Great Eagle of the East his brother; he took him to
the hill of Chapoltepec that his people might know him, and do him
honour. Shall not Masquazateuctli do a good thing to the king's brother?
He was sorry because of his loneliness in the king's garden, and the
Maiden of the East was afar in Tezcuco. I thought of this, and I crept
to the gates of Tezcuco: and I said, 'I will take a prisoner for the
king, and perhaps I shall find a maiden with white brows; which will
gladden the heart of the king's brother.' Mexitli was with me. But I
killed the man that came with her, for I saw she was that daughter of a
god, with eyes like the full moon, of whom the king had spoken, when he
came from Tezcuco alone, and my heart was very joyful. The Eagle is
glad--he will not ask the king for the daughter of Montezuma!"
Guatimozin muttered a fierce interjection betwixt his teeth, but replied
with dignity,
"The Lord of Death should have spoken this to the king; but if he be
angry, he remembers that Masquazateuctli was Montezuma's soldier. By and
by, I will speak with him in the palace.--I have said."
The Lord of Death, thus dismissed, and not a little mortified at such
insufficient thanks, beckoned to his followers and departed.
Guatimozin strode up to the Christians, and touching Juan on the
shoulder, said, with a stern voice,
"What shall the king say of his brother, to the daughter of Montezuma?"
The colour rushed into Juan's cheeks; but he replied immediately, and
even firmly,
"That he brings her his sister, to whom, for his own sake, he prays her
to be kind and gentle."
"Does my brother tell me this?" said the king, starting. "The Great
Eagle said he was alone in the world, with none of his kin remaining."
"And so I thought, until this hour," said Juan, not without
embarrassment: "and now must I tell the king, that though I call this
maiden my sister, and pray heaven she may prove so, yet neither she nor
I have aught upon which to found our belief, but the words of one whom
the Lord of Death killed, when he seized her."
Guatimozin intently eyed the maiden, who watched with painful interest
the changes of his countenance and Juan's, for she understood not a word
of their speech; and then said,
"Let it be so: Guatimozin will think of this. The Spanish lady is
welcome--the Eagle shall speak with her a little, and then give her up
to the women, that they may be good to her.--The king's house is very
spacious."
He then turned gravely away, signing to the outcast pair to follow him.
They were suffered to be alone together for a brief hour, in which
Magdalena, rejecting impetuously and passionately all Juan's doubts,
poured out all the secrets of a life full of unhappiness, but not of
crime; and Juan himself, forgetting the weakness of all her claims of
consanguinity, melted into belief, and learned to call her his sister.
There were indeed certain circumstances of mystery about his birth,
which might have often disturbed his thoughts, had he been of an
imaginative turn. The man whom he had called and esteemed his father,
had died a violent death in the islands, while Juan was yet very young.
He could recollect little of him that was agreeable to remember; and all
that had afterwards come to his ears, only served to chill his
curiosity; all persons, who had not forgotten him, representing the
elder Lerma as a most depraved and infamous man. No one knew whence he
had come, or if he had any relatives left in the world; and Juan
remembered well, that the planters had, on several occasions, when the
unnatural parent, if parent he was, had maltreated and abandoned him,
taken him away from Lerma, and comforted Juan with the assurance that
the villain had undoubtedly _stolen_ him from some one. It is, however,
very certain that Juan never seriously thought of doubting that this man
was his parent; nor would he have recalled such trivial circumstances to
his mind, had he not been staggered by the impetuosity of Magdalena, and
by his own feelings of affection, into a credulity almost as ample as
her own. That he should desire also to find a relative in one, who,
considered without reference to the weakness shown only in her love for
him, was of a soul as stainless as it was noble, is not to be doubted;
and such love he could be rejoiced to return. In truth, his reasons for
admitting her claims were as flimsy as hers for making them, as he came
to discover, when left to examine them in solitude. They made, however,
a deep and lasting impression upon his mind. Perhaps the impression
would have been still deeper, had the two been permitted to remain
longer together; but before Magdalena had yet been able to speak with
composure, there came a train of maidens, bearing chaplets of flowers,
and rich ornaments of feathers, giving Juan to understand, that it was
the king's will his companion should now leave him.
Magdalena turned pale, when this command was announced to her by Juan,
and seemed at first as if resolved never to be parted from him more. But
being persuaded by Juan that she had nothing to fear--that the king was
his friend--that they should certainly meet again,--she at last
consented. She strode to the door--she listened to his words of
farewell, and she sobbed upon his breast; and then departed with the
happy but delusive hope of seeing him again on the morrow.
It was the last night of peace that ever darkened over the Mexico of the
pagans.