This is a bit of very accurate criticism; and the plan which Prescott formed was executed in a manner absolutely faultless. Never for a moment is there a break in the continuity of its narrative. Never for a moment do we lose sight of the central and inspiring figure of Cortés fighting his way, as it were, single-handed against the intrigues of his own countrymen, the half-heartedness of his followers, the obstacles of nature, and the overwhelming forces of his Indian foes, to a superb and almost incredible success. Everything in the narrative is subordinated to this. Every event is made to bear directly upon the development of this leading motive. The art of Prescott in this book is the art of a great dramatist who keeps his eye and brain intent upon the true catastrophe, in the light of which alone the other episodes possess significance. To the general reader this supreme moment comes when Cortés makes his second entry into Mexico, returning over "the black and blasted environs," to avenge the horrors of the _noche triste_, and in one last tremendous assault upon the capital to destroy forever the power of the Aztecs and bring Guatemozin into the possession of his conqueror. What follows after is almost superfluous to one who reads the story for the pure enjoyment which it gives. It is like the last chapter of some novels, appended to satisfy the curiosity of those who wish to know "what happened after." In nothing has Prescott shown his literary tact more admirably than in compressing this record of the aftermath of Conquest within the limit of some hundred pages. The superiority of the _Conquest of Mexico_ to all the rest of Prescott's works is sufficiently proved by one unquestioned fact. Though we read his other books with pleasure and unflagging interest, the _Conquest of Mexico_ alone stamps upon our minds the memory of certain episodes which are told so vividly as never to be obliterated. We may never open the book again; yet certain pages remain part and parcel of our intellectual possessions. In them Prescott has risen to a height of true greatness as a story-teller, and masterful word-painter. Of these, for example, is the account of the burning of the ships,[30] when Cortés, by destroying his fleet, cuts off from his wavering troops all hope of a return home except as conquerors, and when, facing them, in imminent peril of death at their hands, his manly eloquence so kindles their imagination and stirs their fighting blood as to make them shout, "To Mexico! To Mexico!" Another striking passage is that which tells of what happened in Cholula, where the little army of Spaniards, after being received with a show of cordial hospitality, learn that the treacherous Aztecs have laid a plot for their extermination.[31]