"Said I not, my beloved, that I would yet lead you back in triumph to the royal halls of your ancestors? I have come to redeem my pledge. Shrink not from a station which no other can so well adorn. Rather, far rather would I, if I could, retire with you to the quiet shades of private life, and find a home in some sweet glen among the mountains, than wear the crown and claim the homage of a world. But, my sweet cousin, the crown _must_ be defended, the throne _must_ be sustained against the insolent pretensions of these strangers. And _I_ must do my part in the defence. I dare not, either as monarch or as subject, withhold myself from this great work. If I perish, I fall in the service of my country and her altars. And the higher the station I hold, the greater the service I render--the heavier the burden I bear, the brighter the honors I shall win. As well perish on the throne, as fighting at its foot. I should be unworthy of the daughter of Montezuma, if I held any thing too dear to sacrifice on the shrine of my country." "Noble Guatimozin, my heart is yours--my life is devoted only to you. Lead me where you will, so that I can share your burdens, and lighten your cares, and not prove unworthy of such a father and such a lord. But you forget that mine is a doomed life, that oracles and omens, signs and presages, have all conspired against me from my birth." "Nay, my love, it is you that forget, not I. For the very oracles and omens that foreshadowed for you a clouded morning, promised with equal distinctness a bright and glorious evening. The tempestuous morning is passed. The glorious mid-day and the golden evening are yet to come." "You are quite too fast, I fear, my brave cousin, it was only the evening that was to have light. The sunset hour of life was to be clear. But what, my dear Guatimozin, what do you suppose that light is to be? and whence shall it come?" "What _can_ it be, but to restore, in your own person and family, the disputed pre-eminence of the Aztec dynasty, the tarnished glory of its crown. Rely upon it, my gentle cousin, _that_ is your destiny. The timid dove of Chapoltepec shall be transformed to the royal eagle of Tenochtitlan." "That cannot be. I rather fear that the deep cloud of my doom will overshadow and darken your life. Better far that I should suffer and perish alone." "It _must_ be, Tecuichpo, it shall be. Have not the gods given you to me? Have they not made me the defender of the Aztec throne? How then can you doubt that they call _you_ to share and adorn it?" "Oh! my lord! those terrible omens--they are but half fulfilled, and the promised light is yet far in the distance. Could I be sure that you would share that light with me----." "Come then with me to the palace. It will be all light for _me_ when _you_ are there, and sure I am that time will re-interpret those sad omens for you, and turn them all to sunshine."