do, and yet it was harder than anything she had ever dreamed of
doing. But she was fighting the deepest and strongest instinct of
woman's nature, and the fight went hard.

She fancied the scene, the court, the grey-haired nobles, the fair and
honourable women, the brave young soldiers, the thoughtless courtiers,
the whole throng she was about to face, for she meant to speak before
them all, and to her own shame. She was as white as marble, but when she
thought of what was coming the blood sprang to her face and tingled in
her forehead, and she felt her eyes fall and her proud head bend, as the
storm of humiliation descended upon her. She could hear beforehand the
sounds that would follow her words, the sharp, short laugh of jealous
women who hated her, the murmur of surprise among the men. Then the sea
of faces would seem to rise and fall before her in waves, the lights
would dance, her cheeks would burn like flames, and she would grow
dizzy. That would be the end. Afterwards she could go out alone. Perhaps
the women would shrink from her, no man would be brave enough to lead
her kindly from the room. Yet all that she would bear, for the mere hope
of saving her father. The worst, by far the worst and hardest to endure,
would be something within herself, for which she had neither words nor
true understanding, but which was more real than anything she could
define, for it was in the very core of her heart and in the secret of
her soul, a sort of despairing shame of herself and a desolate longing
for something she could never recover.

She closed her tired eyes and pressed her hand heavily upon the stone
coping of the parapet. It was the supreme effort, and when she looked
down at Inez again she knew that she should live to the end of the
ordeal without wavering.

"I am going down to the throne room," she said, very quietly and gently.
"You had better go to our apartment, dear, and wait for me there. I am
going to try and save our father's life--do not ask me how. It will not
take long to say what I have to say, and then I will come to you."

Inez had risen now, and was standing beside her, laying a hand upon her
arm.

"Let me come, too," she said. "I can help you, I am sure I can help
you."

"No," answered Dolores, with authority. "You cannot help me, dearest,
and it would hurt you, and you must not come."

"Then I will stay here," said Inez sorrowfully. "I shall be nearer to
him," she added under her breath.