idly, and refusing the attentions of Father
Olmedo, who knelt at his bedside with uplifted crucifix, sank to his
end. "Half an hour of life alone remains me; at least I will die in the
faith of my forefathers," he said, adding in expiring tones to Cortes,
his last words: "To your care and your Emperor's I commend my
daughters, my precious jewels. You, for whose sake I have been brought
to indignity and death, will not refuse me this last request." So
perished the noble Montezuma.[16]

[Footnote 16: It is stated by some historians that the death of
Montezuma was really brought about by Cortes and the Spaniards, who,
considering the unfortunate monarch an incumbrance, killed him in
captivity; and there are grounds for suspecting that this is true.]

The bridges broken, the savages screaming outside the walls, hope of
victory gone, there was now no counsel of war for the Spaniards save
that of escape. But how? At night and along the great causeway was the
only plan. A weird scene it was on the beginning of that _Noche
Triste_--the sorrowful night--which stands forth so unforgetably in the
history of the Conquest. Disorder everywhere; piles of gold and
valuables upon the floor, each Spaniard, whether cavalier or boor,
loading himself with what he thought he could carry. "Pocket what you
can," Cortes said, "but recollect that gold is heavy and we have to
travel swiftly"--grave advice, the neglect of which cost some their
lives upon that awful night.

And then began the retreat along the fatal causeway. It was known that
there were three openings in this, and a portable bridge had been made
and was borne along to enable passage to be effected. Hurrying on in
the hope of passing the breaches before alarm might be given, the
Spaniards entered upon the causeway and placed their portable bridge
upon the first breach. Was safety to be theirs? No! What was that
appalling sound, sonorous and melancholy, which rang over the city and
the waters amid the darkness? It was the great drum on the _teocalli_;
the _tambor_ of the war-god, sounded by vigilant priests, calling the
people to vengeance and battle. And in their myriads the Aztecs poured
forth and fell upon the Christians, raining darts and stones upon them,
and making the night hideous with their war-cries. Meanwhile Cortes and
the advance guard had passed over, and reached the second breach.
"Bring up the bridge!" was, the repeated order, as those behind crowded
on. Useless;