The Slave Sculptor — page 68: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

70 TUR SLAVE SCULPTOR. That instant a bright flash lit up a long line of battlemerd, fol lowed by a deafening sound of cannon, as the artillery poured a mass of shot and canister through the street; but Cortez had previ- ously divided his little company, and each party marched close te the buildings on either side of the thoroughfare. Thus the shot did no ae whatever, and only served to arouse the inhabitants of the tile city. had now reached the inclosure, surrounding the /¢ocalli, where Narvaez and his army were stationed, and without giving them time to reload, he sprang upon the wall, shouting the watch- word of the night — * Espiritu Santo! Espiritu Santo ! ** CHAPTER XVI. _ IN PRISON AGAIN. WE have anticipated the progress of our story by several months, in order to render consecutive the narrative of Cortez and his drama — shall we say his tragedy? Let us now return to pick up- the threads of the story we are weaving, and hasten it to its final con- summation. : . We saw Mazina restored to Tonatiuh, in her cave-home at the teocallis, through the kind offices of the priest, who ever near her when danger threatened, or when his coming could d0'good. His wonderful ubiquity of bodily presence seemed something preter- natural — no space, nor time, nor danger interposed to prevent his unwearied watchfulness over Mazina and Maxtla. Whoever he was —and his impenetrable mask defied all scrutiny of his face —he. certainly held the youthful lovers in tender and they seemed to realize something of right and authority in his coming and going. Only in the end can we draw aside that mask to discover whose face and eyes have so long looked behind it. On the evening after Mazina’s return from her imprisonment in the mountain caves, she was seated with Yonatiuh at the entrance of the home of the prophetess. Thenight was very fair; stars shone overhead like angels’ NT ee of heaven’s floor; sweetest airs of orange and palm groves floated around, dif- fusing that sense of the beautiful which fills the soul with a fullness of peace. So charmed were the hours that they rapidly fled; and far into the night the two sat at the cave-door, thinking and feeling, rather than to break the silence even by their whispers. Suddenly they were startled by the ery of an infant, apparently conmniclbooks.com