ophonisba
commands and I obey. I obey gladly too, for if I succeed in saving you, a
new and beautiful star will adorn the heaven of my memory."

"Quick, quick!" pleaded Sophonisba, clenching the back of a chair firmly
with her hand. "You will yield, Master; I beseech you, I command you!"

Moor bowed, and Don Fabrizio continued: "We will start at four o'clock in
the morning. Instead of exchanging vows of love, we held a council of
war. Everything is arranged. In an hour my servants will come and ask for
the portrait of my betrothed bride; instead of the picture, you will put
your baggage in the chest. Before midnight you will come to my
apartments. I have passports for myself, six servants, the equerry, and a
chaplain. Father Clement will remain safely concealed at my sister's, and
you will accompany me in priestly costume. May we rely upon your
consent?"

"With all the gratitude of a thankful heart, but. . . ."

"But?"

"There is my old servant--and my pupil Ulrich Navarrete."

"The old man is taciturn, Don Fabrizio!" said Sophonisba. "If he is
forbidden to speak at all. . . . He is necessary to the Master."

"Then he can accompany you," said the baron. "As for your pupil, he must
help us secure your flight, and lead the pursuers on a false trail. The
king has honored you with a travelling-carriage.--At half-past eleven
order horses to be put to it and leave the Alcazar. When you arrive
before our palace, stop it, alight, and remain with me. Ulrich, whom
everybody knows--who has not noticed the handsome, fair-haired lad in his
gay clothes--will stay with the carriage and accompany it along the road
towards Burgos, as far as it goes. A better decoy than he cannot be
imagined, and besides he is nimble and an excellent horseman. Give him
your own steed, the white Andalusian. If the blood-hounds should overtake
him. . . ."

Here Moor interrupted the baron, saying gravely and firmly: "My grey head
will be too dearly purchased at the cost of this young life. Change this
part of your plan, I entreat you."

"Impossible!" exclaimed the Sicilian. "We have few hours at our command,
and if they don't follow him, they will pursue us, and you will be lost."

"Yet. . . ." Moor began; but Sophonisba, scarcely able to command her voice,
interrupted: "He owes everything to--you. I know him. Where is he?"

"Let us maintain our self-control!" cried the Netherlander. "I do not
rely upon the king's mercy, but perhaps in the decis