"Is my brother yet a Spaniard? and does he tell me this thing?" "If I anger thee, yet must I speak! for I speak with the heart of one grateful to thyself and friendly to the race of Montezuma. As a true Spaniard, I should counsel thee to resist; for resistance would excuse rapacity. How wilt thou fight upon this island, with thine enemies round about thee? They will sit down and sleep, while the king perishes with hunger." "The houses are garners," replied Guatimozin, proudly: "There is food provided for many days; and how shall the big ships see the peasant's canoe, when it brings corn in the night-time?" "The lake is broad, but thou knowest not of all the craft and skill of thy foes. Think then of _this_: Can a man drink the water of the salt lake and canals? Are the pipes of Chapoltepec under the mountains? The Spaniards will tear them up from the causeways; and the warriors will despair for drink." "Is Guatimozin a fool?" exclaimed the royal barbarian, with a laugh. "The rains have begun to fall; and for seven[13] months, the sky will be my fountain. Is not Malintzin mad, that he should besiege me at this season? He is not a god!" [Footnote 13: Mexican months, of twenty days each.] "Were it for thrice seven months," said Juan, "be assured that Cortes will still remain by thy city, awaiting its downfall." "And what shall be done by the warriors of Mexico? Will they look from the island, and wring their hands, till he departs? For every grain of corn in the garners of Tenochtitlan, there is an arrow in the quivers of the warriors. Count the bones that lie in the ditches of Tacuba,--number the bearded skulls that are piled on the Huitzompan, the trophies gathered from the Spaniards in the night of their flight,--there are not so many living men in the camp of Malintzin, as perished that night when we drove them from Mexico." "Dost thou hold, then, for nothing the two hundred thousand Tlascalans, Tezcucans, Chalquese, Totonacs, and other tribes, that follow with Cortes?" "There are but three roads to Mexico.--Can they hurt me from the shores?" "The ships are fourteen more; and by and by, there will be no canoe that swims the lake, but will bear the soldiers of Don Hernan. Think not resistance can do aught but protract the fate of thine empire, and incense the miseries of its subjects. Its history is written. Heaven is angry with your gods and with your acts. The blood of human sacrifices, detestable in the eyes of divinity, calls for revenge. Alas, thou didst this day condemn a poor Spaniard to the altar, and thus stain thine installation with cruelty! God will punish the Mexicans for this." The eyes of Guatimozin flashed in the moonlight with indignation.