"If so, they know not the spirit of the Aztec. To a man, throughout these broad realms, they would shed their last drop, to avenge the foul sacrilege, nor rest in their work of vengeance, till every altar in the land was drenched in the blood of the captive foe. But you forget that I have oracle as well as omen to sustain my faith." "What oracle has condescended, at last, to give us light? I thought they had all been silent, not deigning, since the advent of these mysterious strangers, any response to our prayers." "Karee is never deaf, or silent, where the welfare of Tecuichpo is concerned." "Karee?" "Yes, love, Karee! I want no better or more trusty oracle. She has, you know, a sort of ubiquity. Nothing escapes her keen observation. Few mysteries are too deep for her sagacity to unravel. In her brief occasional encounters with the strangers, she has gathered the meaning of not a few of the words of their strange tongue. What she has once heard she never forgets. Presuming that no one could understand them, they have talked freely and boldly in her presence. And it is from her that I learn, that the Castilian general said to one of his officers, as he crossed the court yard, this morning--'While we have the Emperor with us, we are safe. We must see to it, he does not escape.'" "Escape?" shrieked the agitated Princess; "then he is indeed a prisoner. But these white men are gods, are the gods treacherous?" "The gods of the deep are all treachery, but not those of the blue fields and bright stars above us. But, be they gods from below, or gods from above, they are not the gods of Anahuac, nor shall they claim a foot of its soil, till it is drenched with the blood of the Aztec. Farewell. Fear not. I will yet see you return in triumph to the imperial halls of Tenochtitlan." CHAPTER VII. TREACHERY AND RETRIBUTION--MASSACRE OF THE AZTEC NOBILITY--DEATH OF MONTEZUMA. ~And bloody treason triumphed.~ * * * * * ~Feeling dies not by the knife; That cuts at once and kills; its tortured strife Is with distilled affliction, drop by drop Oozing its bitterness. Our world is rife With grief and sorrow; all that we would prop, Or would be propped with, falls; where shall the ruin stop?~ Passing lightly over some of the subsequent incidents of this stirring period, we must hasten to the catastrophe of our long drawn tale. Secure in the possession of his royal prisoner, Cortez now thought he might safely leave the capital, for a while, and respond to a demand which pressed urgently upon him, to relieve his little colony at Vera Cruz, threatened with destruction, not by the natives, but a new band of adventurers from Spain, who had come to dispute the spoils with the conquerors. Leaving one of his principal officers in command, with a part of the forces, he placed himself at the head of the remainder, and marched quietly off on his new expedition.