than you, and I
will not let you go back into the room."

Then her strength relaxed, and she turned to the stone parapet, burying
her face in her crossed arms, and her tears came again. For this the
jester was glad, knowing that tears quench the first white heat of such
sorrows as can burn out the soul and drive the brain raving mad, when
life can bear the torture. He stood still before her, watching her and
guarding her, but he felt that the worst was past, and that before very
long he could lead her away to a place of greater safety. He had indeed
taken her as far as he could from Don John's door, and out of sight of
it, where the long terrace turned to the westward, and where it was not
likely that any one should pass at that hour. It had been the impulse of
the moment, and he himself had not recovered from the shock of finding
Don John's body lifeless on the floor. He had known nothing of what had
happened, but lurking in a corner to see the King pass on his way back
from his brother's quarters, he had made sure that Don John was alone,
and had gone to his apartment to find out, if he could, how matters had
fared, and whether he himself were in further danger or not. He meant to
escape from the palace, or to take his own life, rather than be put to
the torture, if the King suspected him of being involved in a
conspiracy. He was not a common coward, but he feared bodily pain as
only such sensitive organizations can, and the vision of the rack and
the boot had been before him since he had seen Philip's face at supper.
Don John was kind, and would have warned him if he were in danger, and
so all might have been well, and by flight or death he might have
escaped being torn limb from limb. So he had gone boldly in, and had
found the door ajar and had entered the bedchamber, and when he had seen
what was there, he would have fled at once, for his own safety, not only
because Don John's murder was sure to produce terrible trouble, and many
enquiries and trials, in the course of which he was almost sure to be
lost, but also for the more immediate reason that if he were seen near
the body when it was discovered, he should certainly be put to the
question ordinary and extraordinary for his evidence.

But he was not a common coward, and in spite of his own pardonable
terror, he thought first of the innocent girl whose name and fame would
be gone if she were found lying upon her murdered lover's body, and so
far as he could,