Montezuma's DaughterHaggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider)
History
Montezuma's Daughter
Haggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider)
Mexico -- History -- Conquest, 1519-1540 -- Fiction
“Because it is my fancy to do so. Cannot you spare me one hour from
your sleep, who have spared you so many? You remember how you scorned
me—oh! I thought I should have died of shame when, after I had caused
myself to be given to you as wife, the wife of Tezcat, you told me of
the maid across the seas, that Lily maid whose token is still set upon
your finger. But I lived through it and I loved you the better for your
honesty, and then you know the rest. I won you because I was brave and
lay at your side upon the stone of sacrifice, where you kissed me and
told me that you loved me. But you never loved me, not truly, all the
while you were thinking of the Lily maid. I knew it then, as I know it
now, though I tried to deceive myself. I was beautiful in those days
and this is something with a man. I was faithful and that is more, and
once or twice you thought that you loved me. Now I wish that those
Teules had come an hour later, and we had died together there upon the
stone, that is I wish it for my own sake, not for yours. Then we
escaped and the great struggle came. I told you then that I understood
it all. You had kissed me on the stone of sacrifice, but in that moment
you were as one dead; when you came back to life, it was otherwise. But
fortune took the game out of your hands and you married me, and swore
an oath to me, and this oath you have kept faithfully. You married me
but you did not know whom you married; you thought me beautiful, and
sweet, and true, and all these things I was, but you did not understand
that I was far apart from you, that I was still a savage as my
forefathers had been. You thought that I had learned your ways,
perchance even you thought that I reverenced your God, as for your sake
I have striven to do, but all the while I have followed the ways of my
own people and I could not quite forget my own gods, or at the least
they would not suffer me, their servant, to escape them. For years and
years I put them from me, but at last they were avenged and my heart
mastered me, or rather they mastered me, for I knew nothing of what I
did some few nights since, when I celebrated the sacrifice to Huitzel
and you saw me at the ancient rites.
“All these years you had been true to me and I had borne you children
whom you loved; but you loved them for their own sake, not for mine,
indeed, at heart you hated the Indian blood that was mixed in their
veins with yours. Me also you loved in a certain fashion and this half
love of yours drove me well nigh mad; such as it was, it died when you
saw me distraught and celebrating the rites of my forefathers on the
_teocalli_ yonder, and you knew me for what I am, a savage. And now the
children who linked us together are dead—one by one they died in this
way and in that, for the curse which follows my blood descended upon
them—and your love for me is dead with them. I alone remain alive, a
monument of past days, and I die also.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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