And now these poor people must give up their poor gods, for their masters so decree. The chiefs and native priests protest. The Spaniards are benefactors and friends, but the gods are superior to men. To them they owe health, prosperity, existence; and sacrifices are but the necessary slight returns for so great blessings. The sacrificed are by no means injured, say the Aztecs, but are sent to heaven and enfolded at once in the bosom of their god. Verily there are curious articles of faith among the heathen worshipers as well as among our own, but if we look for all the good in ours we shall be mistaken. In vain the men of Cempoala beg to retain the religion of their forefathers and the sacred emblems of their faith. Carried away by the fierce zeal which more than once in these annals overcomes his prudence and brings him to the brink of ruin, Cortés cries: “Christians and soldiers, shall these things be—these idolatries and sacrifices, and other impious doings? No! First down with the images, then to arguments, and the granting of entreaties. Our lives on work rewarded with eternal glory!” Shouts of earnest approval was the response, and on they marched toward the temple. Priests and people rushed to the defence of their deities. With a scornful gesture the ruler was waived aside, as he interposed with the warning that to lay hands on the idols was to bring destruction alike on all. “You are not my friends,” exclaimed Cortés, “if you do not as I wish! Choose ye; and I will leave you your gods to save you from the threatened vengeance of Montezuma.” This was by far too practical an application of their piety. The fact is, their gods had not done exactly right by them in the matter of the Aztec imposition. These white strangers, after all, seemed to be better gods than their idols. “Well, work your will,” at length said Chicomacatl, “but do not ask our aid in such detestable doings.” So the thing was accomplished, as before this had been determined. In a moment fifty soldiers were on the temple summit, and down came the worshipful wooden things, shattered and clattering along the steps, while with bleeding hearts their makers stood by, their faces covered to exclude the sacrilegious sight. Ah, how they wailed, how they lamented, calling on the misshapen blocks to pity their inability to stop the deed![232]