In an instant the paddles were in the water, and the canoe shot ahead with unusual speed. The combined energy of hope and despair nerved every arm, and fired every heart. They neared the beautiful chinampa. Their eyes feasted on its fresh and cooling verdure, and its ripe fruits hanging luxuriantly on every bough. Their ears were ravished with the music of the birds, who had long since deserted their wonted haunts in the capital. While the chase was gaining rapidly upon them, another of those fearful brigantines, which had hitherto been concealed by the thick foliage of the chinampa, rounded its little promontory, and appeared suddenly before them. Instantly, every paddle dropped, every arm was paralyzed. Not a word was spoken. In passive silence each one waited for his doom, which was now inevitable. When the Spaniard had approached within hailing distance, the Emperor rose in his little shallop, and, waving his hand proudly, said, "I am Guatimozin." The royal prisoners were treated with the utmost deference and respect. Being brought into the presence of Cortez, the monarch, pale, emaciated, the shadow of what he had been, approached with an air of imperial dignity, and said-- "Malinché, I have done what I could to defend myself and protect my people. Now I am your prisoner. Do what you will with me, but spare my poor people, who have shown a fidelity and an endurance worthy of a better fate." Cortez, filled with admiration at the proud bearing of the young monarch, assured him that not only his family and his people, but himself should be treated with all respect and tenderness. "Better," said Guatimozin, laying his hand on the hilt of the general's poignard, "better rid me of life at once, and put an end to my cares and sufferings together." "No," replied Cortez, "you have defended your capital like a brave warrior. I respect your patriotism, I honor you valor, and your firm endurance of suffering. You shall be my friend and the friend of my sovereign, and live in honor among your own people." The keen eye of the monarch flashed with something like indignation, when allusion was made to the king of Castile, and to himself as his vassal. "In honor I _cannot_ live," he said proudly, "for I am defeated. A king I _cannot_ be, for he is no king who is subject to another. I am your prisoner. The gods have willed it, and I submit."