lookedathiminhisdarkSpanishbeauty，hisrichgarmentsdeckedwithchainsofgold，ashebowedbeforeCorteshatinhand，IwasfaintoconfessthatIhadneverseenamoregallantcavalier，oronewhoseaspectgavetheliesowhollytotheblackheartwithin。
Butknowinghimforwhathewas，myverybloodquiveredwithhateatthesightofhim，andwhenIthoughtofmyownimpotenceandoftheerrandonwhichhehadcome，IgroundmyteethandcursedthedaythatIwasborn。
AsfordeGarcia，hegreetedmewithalittlecruelsmile，thenspoketoCortes。
’Yourpleasure，general？’
’Greetingtoyou，comrade，’answeredCortes。