The Spaniards and Zempoalans advanced, and the Tlaxcalans at the same time entered the city. Furiously they swept through the streets from all sides and countless corpses marked the course of the destroyers. The native leaders stood as if thunderstruck and hardly dared to raise their trembling hands in defence. The Mexican force advanced to protect them, but it was easily overcome. To escape the sword, they and many of the natives sought shelter in a temple. Cortes led his men there in close ranks and loudly shouted that all who would come out and surrender in good faith should be spared. Only one person availed himself of the offer, the rest preferring apparently to die rather than submit. Cortes then proceeded to the commission of a deed from which we turn our eyes with pity and horror and at which humanity will always shudder. He fired the temple, and the multitude of unfortunates in it were victims of the flames. This horrible massacre went on two whole days—two days of rapine, fire, and slaughter, but women and children were spared by Cortes’ order. At last revenge seemed complete, the lust of plunder was satiated, and the bloody deed ended. The leaders, who had been made prisoners, were released. Cortes upbraided them for their treachery which had made the massacre necessary, and ordered them to recall the fugitive natives and restore the former order. Universal pardon was proclaimed and an idolatrous respect for the Spaniards and fear of their terrible power soon took possession of the Cholulans who had survived. In a few days the devastated city was once more crowded with natives, humbly submissive to the murderers of their kindred and destroyers of their temple. Fourteen days had hardly passed since the entrance of the Spaniards into Cholula before Cortes decided to resume his march to the capital, without further loss of time. The army set out. Cortes was active at every spot where his presence was necessary, now in the advance, now in the rear, encouraging the weak, urging on the laggards, and striving to inspire each one with the enthusiasm he himself felt. He never failed to make the rounds at night to see if every one was at his post. Upon one occasion his watchfulness came near proving fatal. He came too near a sentinel who did not recognize him in the darkness and aimed his cross-bow at him. His quick outcry of the watchword for the night alone saved him.