king at them, because she knew them all by
heart. But it was not the same as if she had seen him, and it was very
hard to be shut off from his sight by an impenetrable piece of wood, to
lose all the moments that might pass before the King chose to come.
Another hour might pass. No one could even tell whether he would come at
all after he had consulted with Antonio Perez. The skilful favourite
desired a quarrel between his master and Don John with all his heart,
but he was not ready for it yet. He must have possession of Dolores
first and hide her safely; and when the quarrel came, Don John should
believe that the King had stolen her and imprisoned her, and that she
was treated ill; and for the woman he loved, Don John would tear down
the walls of Madrid, if need be, and if at the last he found her dead,
there would be no harm done, thought Perez, and Don John would hate his
brother even to death, and all Spain would cry out in sympathy and
horror. But all this Dolores could neither know nor even suspect. She
only felt sure that the King and Perez were even now consulting together
to hinder her marriage with Don John, and that Perez might persuade the
King not to see his brother that night.

It was almost intolerable to think that she might wait there for hours,
wasting the minutes for which she would have given drops of blood.
Surely they both were overcautious. The door could be left open, so that
they could talk, and at the first sound without, she could lock it again
and sit down. That would be quite as safe.

She rose and was almost in the act of opening the door again when she
stopped and hesitated. It was possible that at any moment the King might
be at the door; for though she could hear every sound that came from the
next room, the thick curtains that hid the window effectually shut out
all sound from without. It struck her that she could go to the window,
however, and look out. Yet a ray of light might betray her presence in
the room to any one outside, and if she drew aside the curtain the light
would shine out upon the terrace. She listened at Don John's door, and
presently she heard him turn her letter in his hand, and all her heart
went out to him, and she stood noiselessly kissing the panels and saying
over again in her heart that she loved him more than any words could
tell. If she could only see out of the window and assure herself that no
one was coming yet, there would be time to go to him again, for o