"He has suffered for his crimes," said Cortes.--He strode to and fro for an instant, with hands clasped together, and a working visage. Then returning, and casting around a glance of suspicion, he said, "Hark thee, Gregorio--If we save these unhappy creatures from death, thou shalt be forgiven,--ay, man, and honoured, too. I understand the motives that made thee mine ally in wickedness: now understand mine,--the persuasions of belief that converted me into a persecutor--the base and devilish persecutor, for such I was--of my sister's son--of my own flesh and blood. By heaven! I loved him dearly; nature spoke in my heart,--the instinct of consanguinity was alive within me; and even the lies of Guzman could not wholly destroy it. Velasquez the governor," he went on, "has fought me with all weapons, and with all in vain. Yet did he at last fall upon one, that was made to wound me to the quick, though it could not make me falter in this emprise of conquest. My lady, Gregorio, my lady!" he continued, struggling in vain against the feelings of humiliation, with which he confessed a weakness so unworthy;--"my lady Catalina is fair and merry, and, God wot, somewhat over fond of the gingling galliards that ruffle it at Santiago; and I,--by my conscience, I will be as honest as thou,--I have had the devil of suspicion sometimes enter my mind; but, I swear to thee, to mine own dishonour only. Upon this ground, Velasquez has thrust at me with hints, innuendos, sarcasms, jests, rumours, accusations, time without end. There has never a ship arrived, that it has not brought some petard to be shot off on my bosom; and sometimes, I think, I have been half mad with my dreams. Know, then, that one of these damnable devices was made to play in the person of my adopted son,--for such he was,--and my lady's favourite, Juan Lerma. My lady won him out of prison, and she harboured him during the sickness that followed. Out of this was constructed a story that tormented me. Yet it was naught, until Guzman penetrated the weakness, and wrought it, by I know not what means, into a fierce and fiendish jealousy. The young man was melancholy, too--he had killed his friend Hilario: but (heaven save me such madness again!) I deemed it the workings of his conscience, his sense of ingratitude, operating upon a temper, which, I knew, was naturally noble and virtuous. Thou canst not think how many little events were turned, by Guzman's malignant address, into proof and confirmation of my detestable suspicion. There came for him certain horses and arms, sent, as I quickly believed, by my wife, now bold in infidelity--" "Alas!" said Gregorio; "I learned from Villafana, that these were the gifts of Magdalena, who, poor wretch, would have sent him her life, could that have been made an acceptable present."