they made their first halt, near the present town of Tacuba, a giant cypress-tree, beneath which, it is said, Cortez sat awhile and wept at the loss of his soldiers. That terrible night of the retreat being known as la Noche Triste—or the sorrowful night—this great cypress, still standing, is called "the tree of the sorrowful night."
Well may Cortez have wept, not only at the loss of his soldiers, but at the almost total ruin which had overtaken his army. More than one-half of the Spanish army had fallen, more than four thousand of their Indian allies, almost all the prisoners, and the men and women who were in the service of the Spaniards. Four of their most noted captains also had been killed, and among the prisoners slain were a brother, a son, and two daughters of Montezuma, a daughter of Prince Maxicatzin, and finally, the noble Cacamatzin, King of Tezcoco, who had been deposed by Cortez and Montezuma. Among the officers left to Cortez were his brave and trusty captains, Sandoval, Alvarado, Olid, Ordaz, Avila, and Lugo, and besides these his interpreter, Aguilar, and his mistress, Marina.
Dejected, wearied, most of them bleeding from terrible wounds, the unfortunate Spaniards made their way into the country. Had the Mexicans then pursued them they would have been entirely destroyed, not a life would have been saved; but for some unaccountable reason they ceased their pursuit at the end of the causeway, returning to care for the wounded and pay funeral honors to the dead.
Nine miles west of the capital of Mexico is a hill, which the Spaniards reached on the day after the defeat, and where they fortified themselves for the night; here they obtained a little repose and a small amount of food from the neighboring Indians. Many years later, a small chapel was erected here in memory of their deliverance. The next day they were so famished that they ate a horse which
