The Totonac chiefs were imperiously summoned to appear immediately before the lords of Montezuma. Like terrified children they obeyed. Soon they returned, trembling, to Cortez, and informed him that the Mexican lords were indignant at the support which they had afforded the Spaniards, contrary to the express will of their emperor, and that they demanded as the penalty twenty young men and twenty young women of the Totonacs, to be offered in sacrifice to their gods. Cortez assumed an air of indignation and of authority as he eagerly availed himself of this opportunity of promoting an open rupture between the Totonacs and the Mexicans. He declared that he would never consent to any such abominable practices of heathenism. He haughtily commanded the Totonac chiefs immediately to arrest the lords of Montezuma, and throw them into prison. The poor chiefs were appalled beyond measure at the very idea of an act so irrevocable and so unpardonable. They had long been accustomed to consider Montezuma as possessing power which nothing on earth could resist. Montezuma swayed the sceptre of a Cæsar, and bold indeed must he be who would venture to brave his wrath. But, on the other hand, they had already offended beyond hope of pardon by entertaining the intruders contrary to the positive command of their sovereign. Twenty of their sons and daughters were to bleed upon the altars of sacrifice. Their only hope was now in Cortez. Should he abandon them, they were ruined hopelessly. They deemed it possible that, with the thunder and the lightning at his command, he might be able to set at defiance that mighty Mexican power which had hitherto been found invincible. In this dreadful dilemma, they yielded to the inexorable demand of Cortez, and tremblingly arrested the Mexican lords. The Rubicon was now passed. The Totonacs were from that moment the abject slaves of Cortez. Their only protection from the most awful doom was in his strong arm, and their persons, their property, their all, were entirely at his disposal.