So passed the noon and evening of that disastrous day; but, at night fall, the baffled mob that had been unable to make any impression with their feeble weapons upon the massive walls of the palace, brought pitch and inflammable materials, with which they fired the gates of the viceroyal palace. The bright flames of these combustibles sent up their light in the still evening air, and, far and wide over the town spread the news that the beautiful city was about to be destroyed. Frightened from their retreats, the judges and chief citizens who had influence with the people rushed to the _plaza_, and, by their urgent entreaties, efforts were made to extinguish the fire. But the palace gates had already fallen, and, over their smouldering ruins, the infuriated assailants rushed into the edifice to commence the work of destruction. The magistrates, however, who had never taken part against the people in their quarrels, soon appeared upon the field, and, by loud entreaties, stopped the _saqueo_. It was soon discovered that Mexia and Tirol had escaped by a postern, whilst the conquered viceroy, disguised as a friar, stole through the crowd to the Franciscan cloister, where, for many a day, he lay concealed in the sanctuary which his rapacious spirit had denied to the venerable De la Serna. So ended this base attempt of a Spanish nobleman and representative of royalty in America, to enrich himself by plundering the docile Mexicans. The fate of Mexia and Tirol is unknown. But Spanish injustice towards the colonies was strongly marked by the reception of the viceroy and the archbishop on their return from Madrid. Gelves, it is true, was recalled, but, after being graciously welcomed at court, was made "master of the royal horse;" while the noble hearted De la Serna was degraded from his Mexican arch-prelacy; and banished to the petty bishopric of Zamora in Castile! [Footnote 41: "Como Rey y Señor de las Españas," says the authority.]