But Cortes was never a man to be easily turned aside from his purpose. The Cholulans sent to invite him to enter their city, but entreated that the hasty-tempered Tlascalan warriors might be kept without in the camp, and Cortes accepted the invitation and granted the request. CHAPTER XXXIV. _AN INDIAN GIRL-CHAMPION._ The ancient and populous city of Cholula was reputed of great antiquity by the Aztecs, even when they themselves conquered it from the descendants of its ancient founders. It was the chief seat of the religion of the empire and of its commerce, and was held in the most profound veneration by the Aztecs generally, as the chosen abode for twenty years of their wonderful, benevolent, and wise white god Quetzalcoatl, whose descendants they took the unknown Spaniards to be when they first landed on their coasts. Poor creatures! they were soon undeceived. These new gods taught them plenty of lessons, truly--such lessons as human nature learns but too readily. But they taught none of the lessons their wise ancestor and so-called god had taught of the arts of peace, and civilization, and wise-living. But whatever might be the merits or demerits of Cholula and the Cholulans, the Tlascalan Caciques showed such anxiety that the Spaniards should give them a wide berth, that at length Cortes somewhat impatiently exclaimed,-- "Methought the Republicans of Tlascala were reputed a brave nation; but I see now that there are some they fear, and they are the people of Cholula." The eyes of the younger chieftains flashed indignantly at the imputation, but the grand old centenarian Xicotencatl signed to them to keep silence. He called to him a young Indian maiden, his granddaughter, and in low, impressive tones spoke a few words to her. As the girl listened the crimson deepened in her cheeks, her chest heaved, and the pair of brilliant dark eyes, she turned upon the Spanish General, were flashing as proudly as any of those belonging to the warriors of her country. Leaving the apartment for a few moments, she quickly returned with a long leather thong, which she carried to Cortes, and then placing her small, dark-hued wrists together, she made signs to him that he should bind them with it thus. Hernando Cortes was ever gentle with women, and he looked at the rough leather strap, and at the delicate wrists from which the gaily-embroidered robe had been thrown back, and met the girl's signs with smiling shakings of the head for denial. But it was no good. The young Indian flung back the hair from her low, broad forehead angrily, and stamped her foot. Then pressing her wrists against each other more tightly than before, she again held them up to Cortes with an air of resolution, mingled with something of wistful entreaty he could no longer resist. "Best see, Captain," said Cabrera, inquisitively; "best let us see what the wilful lassie will be at."