r me stood the human devil in his red mantle, the glass knife
in his hand. Never shall I forget his wicked face maddened with the lust
for blood, or the glare in his eyes as he tossed back his matted locks.
But he did not strike at once, he gloated over me, pricking me with the
point of the knife. It seemed to me that I lay there for years while the
paba aimed and pointed with the knife, but at last through a mist that
gathered before my eyes, I saw it flash upward. Then when I thought that
my hour had come, a hand caught his arm in mid-air and held it and I
heard a voice whispering.

What was said did not please the priest, for suddenly he howled aloud
and made a dash towards me to kill me, but again his arm was caught
before the knife fell. Then he withdrew into the temple of the god
Quetzal, and for a long while I lay upon the stone suffering the agonies
of a hundred deaths, for I believed that it was determined to torture me
before I died, and that my slaughter had been stayed for this purpose.

There I lay upon the stone, the fierce sunlight beating on my breast,
while from below came the faint murmur of the thousands of the wondering
people. All my life seemed to pass before me as I was stretched upon
that awful bed, a hundred little things which I had forgotten came back
to me, and with them memories of childhood, of my oath to my father, of
Lily's farewell kiss and words, of de Garcia's face as I was hurled into
the sea, of the death of Isabella de Siguenza, and lastly a vague wonder
as to why all priests were so cruel!

At length I heard footsteps and shut my eyes, for I could bear the sight
of that dreadful knife no longer. But behold! no knife fell. Suddenly my
hands were loosed and I was lifted to my feet, on which I never hoped to
stand again. Then I was borne to the edge of the teocalli, for I could
not walk, and here my would-be murderer, the priest, having first
shouted some words to the spectators below, that caused them to murmur
like a forest when the wind stirs it, clasped me in his blood-stained
arms and kissed me on the forehead. Now it was for the first time that
I noticed my captor, the cacique, standing at my side, grave, courteous,
and smiling. As he had smiled when he handed me to the pabas, so he
smiled when he took me back from them. Then having been cleansed and
clothed, I was led into the sanctuary of the god Quetzal and stood face
to face with the hideous image there, staring at the gold