ven out by the cruelty and perfidy of
the Toltecs, would return, invested with supernatural power from heaven,
to re-possess their ancient inheritance.[B] To this leading and long
established faith, every dark and doubtful omen contributed its
appropriate share of confirmation. To this, every significant event was
deemed to have a more or less intimate relation. So that, at this
particular epoch, not only the superstitious monarch, and his priestly
astrologers, but the whole nation of Azteca were prepared, as were the
ancient Jews at the advent of the Messiah, for great events, though
utterly unable to imagine what might be the nature of the expected
change.

These gloomy forebodings of coming evil so thoroughly possessed the mind
of Montezuma, that the commanding dignity and pride of the monarch gave
way before the absorbing anxiety of the man and the father, and, in a
manner, unfitted him for the duties of the lofty place he had so nobly
filled. He yielded, as will be seen in the sequel, not without grief,
but without resistance, to the fixed decrees of fate, and awaited the
issue, as a victim for the heaven-appointed sacrifice.

It was about fifteen years after the prophetic announcement of the doom
of the young princess of the empire, that Montezuma was reclining in his
summer saloon, where he had been gloomily brooding over his darkening
prospects, till his soul was filled with sadness. His beautiful daughter
was with him, striving to cheer his heart with the always welcome music
of her songs, and the affectionate expression of a love as pure and deep
as ever warmed the heart of a devoted child. She had gone that day into
the royal presence to ask a boon for her early and faithful friend,
Karee. This lovely and gifted creature, now in the full maturity of all
her wonderful powers of mind, and personal attractions, had often been
admitted, as a special favorite, into the royal presence, to exhibit her
remarkable powers of minstrelsy, and her almost supernatural gifts as an
improvisatrice of the wild melodies of Anahuac. Some of her chants were
of rare pathos and sublimity, and sometimes she was so carried away with
the impassioned vehemence of her inspiration, that she seemed an
inspired messenger from the skies, uttering in their language the
oracles of the gods. On this occasion, she had requested permission to
sing a new chant in the palace, that she might seize the opportunity to
breathe a prophetic warning in