by which Dolores had entered, another
communicated with the room beyond. Both were carved and ornamented with
scroll work of gilt bronze, but were without curtains. Three or four
Eastern, rugs covered the greater part of the polished marble pavement,
which here and there reflected the light of the tall wax torches that
stood on the table in silver candlesticks, and on each side of the bed
upon low stands. The vault above the tapestried walls was very dark
blue, and decorated with gilded stars in relief. Dolores thought the
room gloomy, and almost funereal. The bed looked like a catafalque, the
candles like funeral torches, and the whole place breathed the
magnificent discomfort of royalty, and seemed hardly intended for a
human habitation.

Dolores barely glanced at it all, as her companion locked the first door
and led her on to the next room. He knew that he had not many minutes to
spare, and was anxious that she should be in her hiding-place before his
servants came back. She followed him and went in. Unlike the bedchamber,
the small study was scantily and severely furnished. It contained only a
writing-table, two simple chairs, a straight-backed divan covered with
leather, and a large chest of black oak bound with ornamented steel
work. The window was curtained with dark stuff, and two wax candles
burned steadily beside the writing-materials that were spread out ready
for use.

"This is the room," Don John said, speaking for the first time since
they had entered the apartments.

Dolores let her head fall back, and began to loosen her cloak at her
throat without answering him. He helped her, and laid the long garment
upon the divan. Then he turned and saw her in the full light of the
candles, looking at him, and he uttered an exclamation.

"What is it?" she asked almost dreamily.

"You are very beautiful," he answered in a low voice. "You are the most
beautiful woman I ever saw."

The merest girl knows the tone of a man whose genuine admiration breaks
out unconsciously in plain words, and Dolores was a grown woman. A faint
colour rose in her cheek, and her lips parted to smile, but her eyes
were grave and anxious, for the doubt had returned, and would not be
thrust away. She had seen the lady in the cloak and veil during several
seconds, and though Dolores, who had been watching the men who passed,
had not actually seen her come out of Don John's apartments, but had
been suddenly aware of her as she glided by