The Infidel; or, the Fall of Mexico. Vol. I.Bird, Robert Montgomery
History
The Infidel; or, the Fall of Mexico. Vol. I.
Bird, Robert Montgomery
Mexico -- History -- Conquest, 1519-1540 -- Fiction
The third, and by far the most remarkable of all, was he who had first
caught the eye of Najara, and upon whom was now concentrated the gaze of
the whole party. A figure of the most majestic height, and noble
proportions, though, at the present moment, greatly wasted, was rather
set off to advantage than concealed by a costume as spare and primitive
as that of the red-bearded man. His skin was much tawnier than his
companion's; indeed, it was of the darkest hue known among the southern
provinces of Spain and Portugal, where the blood of Europe has mingled
harmoniously with the life-tides of Africa. His lofty stature was more
obvious, perhaps, since he adopted not the bearing or gait of the
others, but moved along erect, with a graceful demeanour, and a step of
natural ease and dignity. He had but one characteristic of a Mexican;
and that was the long hair, straight, and of an intense blackness, that
fell from his temples to his breast, with much of a wild and savage
profusion, concealing, in part, a cheek of the finest contour, though
somewhat hollowed by hardship, and, perhaps, suffering. The puffs of
wind, blowing aside this sable curtain, disclosed an elevated forehead,
crowning a visage in which every feature was of the mould of Castile,
and after the happiest model of that order of beauty, each being
sculptured with a touch that preserved delicacy, even while giving
boldness. His age would have been a question wherewith to puzzle a
physiognomist: there was much in the smoothness of his brow, and the
unaltered freshness of a mouth, over which was sprouting a mustache,
short and bushy, as if as lately submitted to the tonsure as the beard
of his companion, that spoke of youth just verging into maturity; while,
on the other hand, the complete developement of his frame, and the
seriousness of his countenance, would have conveyed the impression of an
age many years farther advanced. This seriousness of expression was,
indeed, more than mere gravity; it indicated a melancholy, or even
sadness, which, though of a gentle cast, was become a settled and
permanent characteristic.
As he approached, his eyes were, like his companions', fixed with
curiosity upon the long and dense body of Tlascalans, from whom they
were only withdrawn, when the exclamation of Najara attracted them
suddenly to the group at the cypress. The confusion of these personages
was so manifest, and they handled their arms with an air so indicative
of hostility, that the old warrior and the red-bearded man came to an
instant halt, and looked, as if for instructions, to their taller and
more noble-visaged companion. He instantly stepped before them, and
waving his hand to Najara, who was hastily fitting a bolt to his
crossbow, and to the historian, who presented his partisan with greater
alacrity of decision than would have been anticipated from his sluggish
appearance, cried aloud,
"Hold, friends! We are not enemies, but Christians and Castilians."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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