CHAPTER XLVI.

  The fate of Don Amador de Leste, though so darkly written in the heartsof his companions, was not yet brought to a close. Some of his latefriends deemed only that he had been overpowered and slain; but others,better acquainted with the customs of the foe, shuddered over theassurance of a death yet more awful. They knew that the pride of theMexican warrior was, not to slay, but to capture; as if, indeed, thesedemi-barbarians made war less for the glory of taking life, than for thehonour of offering it in sacrifice to the gods. Such, in truth, was thecase; and to this circumstance was it owing that the Christians were notutterly destroyed, in any one encounter in the streets of Tenochtitlan.The fury of their foes was such as may be imagined in a people goaded todesperation by atrocious tyranny and insult, and fighting with foreignoppressors at their very firesides; yet, notwithstanding the deadlyfeeling of vengeance at their hearts, they never forgot their duties totheir faith; and they forbore to kill, in the effort to take prisoner.Twice or thrice, at least, in the course of the war that followed afterthese events, the life of Cortes, himself, was in their hands; and thethrust of a javelin, or the stroke of a bludgeon, would have freed themfrom the destroyer. But they neither struck nor thrust; they strove tobear him off alive, as the most acceptable offering they could carry tothe temple; thus always giving his followers an opportunity to rescuehim out of their grasp. Every captive thus seized and retained, died adeath too terrible for description; and high or low,--the base boor, andthe noble hidalgo, alike,--expiated, on the stone of sacrifice, thewrongs done to the religion of Mexitli.

  Knowing so much of the customs of Anahuac, and not having discovered hisbody, the more experienced cavaliers were convinced that Don Amador deLeste had not yet enjoyed the happiness of death; they persuadedthemselves that he had been taken alive, and was preserved forsacrifice. Many a Castilian eye, that afternoon, was cast upon thepyramid, watching the steps, and eagerly examining the persons of allwho ascended.--But no victim was seen borne upon their shoulders----

  When the cavalier of Cuenza opened his eyes, after the stunning effectsof the blow were over, it was in a confusion of mind, which the objectsabout him, or, perhaps, the accession of a hot fever,--the result ofmany severe wounds and contusions,--soon converted into delirium. Helay,--his armour removed,--on a couch in a spacious apartment, but sodarkened, that he could not distinguish the countenances of two or threedusky figures which seemed to bend over him. His thoughts were still inthe battle; and, in these persons, he perceived nothing less thanMexican warriors still clutching at his body. He started up, and callingout, "Ho, Fogoso! one leap more for thy master," caught fiercely at thenearest of the individuals. But he had overrated his strength; and,almost before a hand was laid upon him, he fell back, fainting, on thebed.

  "Dost _thou_ strike me, too, false villain?" he again exclaimed, as hisdistempered eyes pictured, in one silent visage, the features ofAbdalla. "Be thou accursed for thy ingratitude, and live in hell forever!"

  A murmur of voices, followed by the sound of retreating steps, washeard; and in the silence which ensued, his fancy became moredisordered, presenting him phantasms still more peculiar.

  "Is this death?" he muttered, "and lie I now in the world of shadows?God be merciful to me a sinner! Pity and pardon me, O Christ, for I havefought for thy faith. Take me from this place of blackness, and let melook on the light of bliss!"

  A gentle hand was laid upon his forehead, a low sigh breathed on hischeek; and suddenly a light, flashing up as from some expiring cresset,revealed to his wondering eyes the face and figure of the mysteriousprophetess.

  "O God! art thou indeed a fiend? and dost thou lead me, from the land ofinfidels, to the prison-house of devils?" he cried, again starting up,clasping his hands, and gazing wildly on the vision. "Speak to me, thouthat livest not; for I know, thou art Leila!"

  As he uttered these incoherent words, the figure, bending a little away,and fastening upon his own, eyes of strange meaning, in which pitystruggled with terror, seemed, gradually, to fade into the air; until,as suddenly as it had flashed into brightness, the light vanished, andall was left in darkness.

  From this moment, the thoughts of the cavalier wandered with tenfoldwildness; and he fell into a delirium, which presented, as long as itlasted, a succession of exciting images. Now he struggled, in the hallof his own castle of Alcornoque, or the Cork-tree, with the falseAbdalla, the knee of the Almogavar on his breast, and the Arab poniardat his throat--while all the time, the perfidious Jacinto stood by,exhorting his father to strike; now he stood among burning sands,fighting with enraged fiends, over the dead body of his knight, Calavar,to protect the beloved corse from their fiery fingers; now the vanishedLeila sat weeping by his side, dropping upon his fevered lips the juiceof pleasant fruits, or now she came to him in the likeness of the paganSibyl, beckoning him away, with melancholy smiles, to a distant bay;while, ever, when he strove to rise and follow, the page Jacinto,converted into a giant, and brandishing a huge dagger, held him backwith a lion's strength and ferocity.

  With such chimeras, and a thousand others, equally extravagant,disturbing his brain, he passed through many hours; and then, as atorpor like that of death gradually stole over him, benumbing hisderanged faculties, the same gentle hand, the same low suspiration,which had soothed him before, but without the countenance which hadmaddened, returned to him, and made pleasant the path to annihilation.