"Haggard, H Rider- Montezuma's Daughter" - читать интересную книгу автора (Haggard H. Rider)

Montezuma's Daughter

by

H. Rider Haggard



NOTE

The more unpronounceable of the Aztec names are shortened in many
instances out of consideration for the patience of the reader; thus
'Popocatapetl' becomes 'Popo,' 'Huitzelcoatl' becomes 'Huitzel,'
&c. The prayer in Chapter xxvi. is freely rendered from
Jourdanet's French translation of Fray Bernardino de Sahagun's
History of New Spain, written shortly after the conquest of Mexico
(Book VI, chap. v.), to which monumental work and to Prescott's
admirable history the author of this romance is much indebted. The
portents described as heralding the fall of the Aztec Empire, and
many of the incidents and events written of in this story, such as
the annual personation of the god Tezcatlipoca by a captive
distinguished for his personal beauty, and destined to sacrifice,
are in the main historical. The noble speech of the Emperor
Guatemoc to the Prince of Tacuba uttered while they both were
suffering beneath the hands of the Spaniards is also authentic.



DEDICATION

My dear Jebb,

Strange as were the adventures and escapes of Thomas Wingfield,
once of this parish, whereof these pages tell, your own can almost
equal them in these latter days, and, since a fellow feeling makes
us kind, you at least they may move to a sigh of sympathy. Among
many a distant land you know that in which he loved and fought,
following vengeance and his fate, and by your side I saw its relics
and its peoples, its volcans and its valleys. You know even where
lies the treasure which, three centuries and more ago, he helped to
bury, the countless treasure that an evil fortune held us back from
seeking. Now the Indians have taken back their secret, and though
many may search, none will lift the graven stone that seals it, nor
shall the light of day shine again upon the golden head of
Montezuma. So be it! The wealth which Cortes wept over, and his
Spaniards sinned and died for, is for ever hidden yonder by the
shores of the bitter lake whose waters gave up to you that ancient
horror, the veritable and sleepless god of Sacrifice, of whom I
would not rob you--and, for my part, I do not regret the loss.