Another morning dawned upon the combatants. In its earliest light the battle was again renewed with increasing fury. No pen can describe the tumult of this wild war. The yell of countless thousands of assailants, the clang of their trumpets, gongs, and drums, the clash of arms, the rattle of musketry, and the roar of artillery, presented a scene which had never before found a parallel in the New World. Suddenly all the tumult was hushed as the venerated emperor, dressed in his imperial robes, appeared upon the walls, and waved his hand to command the attention of his subjects. At the sight of their beloved sovereign silence almost instantaneously prevailed, all bowed their heads in reverence, and many prostrated themselves upon the ground. Montezuma earnestly entreated them to cease from the conflict, assuring them that the Spaniards would retire from the city if the Mexicans would lay down their arms. "The war will soon be over," a Mexican shouted from the crowd, "for we have all sworn that not a Spaniard shall leave the city alive." [Illustration: THE FALL OF MONTEZUMA.] As Montezuma continued his urgency, pleading for the detested Spaniards, the natives for a few moments longer continued to listen patiently. But gradually a sullen murmur, like a rising breeze, began to spread through the ranks. Reproaches and threats succeeded. Indignation now overtopped all barriers, and a shower of stones and arrows suddenly fell upon the unhappy monarch. Cortez had taken the precaution to send a body-guard upon the wall with Montezuma, with bucklers for his protection; but so sudden and unexpected was the assault, that two arrows pierced his body, and a stone, striking him on the temple, felled him senseless to the ground before they could raise their shields. This was the last drop in the cup of bitterness which Montezuma was doomed to drain. The wounded monarch was conveyed to his apartment, crushed in spirit, and utterly broken-hearted. Finally, resolved no longer to live, he tore the bandages from his wounds, and refused all nourishment. Silent, and brooding over his terrible calamities, he lingered, the picture of dejection and woe, for a few days, until he died.