Ay，theymustdie，butattheleasttheywouldseektheMansionsoftheSunmadeholybythebloodoftheaccursedTeule。
Ihavesaidthatitwasthewomenwhosangthischantandglaredsofiercelyuponthevictims，butIhavenotyettoldallthehorrorofwhatIsaw，forinthefore-frontoftheircircle，cladinwhiterobes，theneckletofgreatemeralds，Guatemoc’sgift，flashinguponherbreast，theplumesofroyalgreensetinherhair，givingthetimeofthedeathchantwithalittlewand，stoodMontezuma’sdaughter，Otomiemywife。
NeverhadIseenherlooksobeautifulorsodreadful。
ItwasnotOtomiewhomIsaw，forwherewasthetendersmileandwherethegentleeyes？
HerebeforemewasalivingVengeancewearingtheshapeofwoman。