The contemptuous smile which mounts the features of the inca at the opening of the address, changes to looks of dark resentment as he is told to renounce his faith and to acknowledge the sovereignty of the king of Spain. "Your sovereign may be great," he exclaims, fire flashing from his eye, "but none is greater than the inca. I will be tributary to no man.[I‑11] As for your faith, you say your god was slain and by men whom he had made. Mine lives," pointing proudly to the setting sun, "omnipotent in the heavens.[I‑12] Your pope must be a fool to talk of giving away the property of others."[I‑13] Then after a moment's pause he demands, "By what authority do you speak thus to me?" The priest places in his hand the bible. "In this," he says, "is given all that is requisite for man to know." The inca takes the book and turns the leaves. "It tells me nothing," he exclaims. Then exasperated by what he deems intentional insult he throws the book upon the ground,[I‑14] saying, "You shall dearly pay for this indignity, and for all the injuries you have done in my dominions." It is enough. God and the king rejected, and the holy evangelists trampled under foot.[I‑15] "Why do you delay?" cries the enraged monk to Pizarro as he picks up the sacred volume. "In God's name at them! Kill the impious dogs!"[I‑16] [Sidenote: SEIZURE OF THE INCA.] The zealous commander needs no second exhortation. Unfurling a white banner, the signal for assault, he springs from his retreat; the sentinel in the tower discharges his musket, and loud rings the war-cry Santiago! as every Spaniard rushes to the charge. To their brutal instinct was added a spiritual drunkenness which took them out of the category of manhood and made them human fiends. We wonder how men could so believe; but greater still is our wonder how men so believing could so behave. The guns fill the place with reverberating noise and smoke; with shrill blast of trumpets and jingling of bells the horsemen ride upon the panic-stricken crowd; the infantry with clang of arms appear and all unite in quick succession in sheathing their sharp swords in the unprotected bodies of the natives. At first they turn to fly, but at every point they are met by a blood-thirsty foe. Those nearest the gates escape, but soon the passages are blocked by heaps of dead bodies. The carnage is fearful. And above all the din of slaughter is heard the shrill voice of the man of God crying to the soldiers, "Thrust! thrust! thrust with the point of your swords, lest by striking you break your weapons."[I‑17] When the first fierce charge is made, Pizarro, who with twenty chosen men had assumed the task of capturing the inca, rushes for the royal litter, but quick as are their movements the devoted followers of Atahualpa are before him, and crowding round their imperilled sovereign, struggle to shield his person. As one drops dead another hastens to take his place. Each one of Pizarro's guard strives