The Infidel; or, the Fall of Mexico. Vol. I.. Robert Bird

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The Infidel; or, the Fall of Mexico. Vol. I. - Robert  Bird

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you ask me? what, you?" said Villafana, "Come, I am your friend."

      As the Alguazil pronounced these words, with an insinuating frankness and earnestness, he threw into his countenance an expression that seemed meant to invite the confidence of the young man, and encourage him to expose the mystery of his breast, by laying bare the secrets of his own. It was a transfiguration: the mean person was unchanged, – the insignificant features did not alter their proportions, – but the smile that had contorted them, was turned into a sneer of fiendish malignancy, and the peculiar sweetness that characterized his eyes, was lost in a sudden glare of passion, so demoniacal, that it seemed as if the flames of hell were blazing in their sockets. It was the look of but an instant: it made Juan recoil with terror: but before he could express a word of this feeling, of curiosity, or of suspicion, it had vanished. The Alguazil touched his arm, and said quickly, though without any peculiar emphasis,

      "Judge for yourself: Heaven forbid I should breed ill-will where there is none, or plant thorns in my friend's flower-garden. Judge for yourself, señor: if, being innocent of all crime, Cortes has yet doomed you, basely and perfidiously, to death, – "

      "To death!" exclaimed Juan, with a voice that reached the ears of his late companions, and brought them to a sudden stand; "Heaven be my help! and do I come back but to die?"

      "You went forth but to die!" said Villafana; "and, you may judge, with what justice. Come, señor, – the thing is said in a moment. The expedition was designed for your death-warrant."

      "Villain!" exclaimed Juan; "dare you impute this horrible treachery to Cortes?"

      "Not, – no, not, if it appear at all doubtful to your own excellent penetration," replied the Alguazil, with a laugh. "I do but repeat you the belief of some half the army – had it been but before the Noche Triste, I might have said, all: but, in truth, we are now, more than half of us, new men, who know but little of the matter."

      "Does any one charge this upon the general?" said Juan, with a look of horror.

      "Ay, – if you call them not 'villains,'" replied the soldier.

      "I will know the truth," said Juan. "I will find who has belied me."

      "You will find that of any one but Don Hernan. Señor Don Juan, I pity you. You have returned at an evil moment; your presence will chill old friends, and sharpen ancient enemies."

      "If he seek my life, it is his: but, by heaven, the man who has wronged me, – "

      "Get thy horse and arms first. Wilt thou be wise? Thou shalt have friends to back thee. Listen: A month since, there came for thee, in a ship from the islands, two very noble horses, and a suit of goodly armour, sent, as was said, by some benevolent friend, whom thou mayst be quicker at remembering than myself."

      "Sent by heaven, I think," said Lerma, "for I know not what earthly friend would so supply my necessities."

      "Oh, then," said Villafana, "the rumour is, they were sent thee by the lady Catalina, our general's wife."

      "May heaven bless her!" exclaimed Juan; "for she is mine only friend: and this bounty I have not deserved."

      "In this matter," said Villafana, dryly, "she will prove rather thine enemy; that is, if thou art resolute to demand the restoration of her gifts."

      "The restoration!"

      "In good truth, they were distributed among thine heirs; the horse Bobadil, thought by many to be the best in the army, falling to the share of thy good friend Guzman."

      "To Guzman?" cried Juan, angrily. "Could they find no better friend to give him to? I will have him back again; yea, by St. Juan, he shall ride no steed of mine!"

      "Right!" exclaimed Villafana; "for if thou hast an enemy, he is the man. Thou didst well, to refuse his hand. He offered it not in love, but in treachery. Thou wilt ask Cortes for thy maligner? It needs not: remember Don Francisco."

      "I will do so," said Juan, with a sigh. "I thought, in my captivity, when I despaired of ever more looking upon a Christian face, that I had forgiven my enemies. I deceived myself, – I hate Don Francisco. I will proclaim him before the whole army, if he refuse to do me reparation."

      "I tell thee, thou shalt have friends," said the Alguazil, with an insinuating voice, "to back thee in this matter, as well as in all others wherein thou hast been wronged. But thou must be ruled. Speak not to Cortes in complaint: he will do thee no justice. Send no defiance of battle to Guzman, for this has been proclaimed a sin against God and the king, to be punished with loss of arms, degradation, and whipping with rods, – sometimes with the loss of the right hand. You stare! Oh, señor Juan Lerma, you will find we have a master now, – a master by the king's patent, – who makes his own laws, beats and dishonours, and gives us to the gallows, when the fit moves him, without any necessity of cozening us to death in expeditions to the gold mines, or the South Seas."

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      These poems, we presume, were handed down orally. We know not how far the picture-writing of the Mexicans (the art of interpreting which appears to be now lost,) was capable of conveying any such thoughts as could not be represented by an absolute portrait. No system of writing that is not essentially phonetic or dialectical, (i. e. representative of sounds, or of language,) can be made to express abstract ideas, which may be defined to be such as admit of no ideographic or metaphoric representation. If they could, mankind might, at once, enjoy the benefits of the universal language, (or, to speak strictly, a substitute for it; for it would convey

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These poems, we presume, were handed down orally. We know not how far the picture-writing of the Mexicans (the art of interpreting which appears to be now lost,) was capable of conveying any such thoughts as could not be represented by an absolute portrait. No system of writing that is not essentially phonetic or dialectical, (i. e. representative of sounds, or of language,) can be made to express abstract ideas, which may be defined to be such as admit of no ideographic or metaphoric representation. If they could, mankind might, at once, enjoy the benefits of the universal language, (or, to speak strictly, a substitute for it; for it would convey ideas not words,) which Leibnitz dreamed of, and Bishop Wilkins, and many others after him, so vainly attempted to construct.

When, therefore, we relate any very curious and marvellous matters, appertaining to Mexican literature, though we speak upon the authority

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