time that where
great matters are at stake those who do not know the whole truth are
often greatly deceived by appearances. I know nothing of the real matter
now, but it would not surprise me if a great change took place before
to-morrow night. A man who has committed a crime so horrible as the one
your father confessed before us all rarely finds it expedient to make
such a confession, and a young girl, my dear, who has really been a
little too imprudently in love with a royal Prince, would be a great
deal too wise to make a dramatic statement of her fault to the assembled
Grandees of Spain."

He looked across at Dolores and smiled gently. But she only shook her
head gravely in answer, though she wondered at what he said, and
wondered, too, whether there might not be a great many persons in the
court who thought as he did. She was silent, too, because it hurt her to
talk when she could not draw breath without remembering that what she
had lived for was lying dead in that dim room on the upper story.

The door opened, and a chamberlain entered the room.

"His Majesty is pleased to receive Dona Dolores de Mendoza, in private
audience," he said.

Ruy Gomez rose and led Dolores out into the corridor.

* * * * *

CHAPTER XVIII

Dolores had prepared no speech with which to appeal to the King, and she
had not counted upon her own feelings towards him when she found herself
in the room where Mendoza had been questioned, and heard the door closed
behind her by the chamberlain who had announced her coming. She stood
still a moment, dazzled by the brilliant lights after having been so
long in the dimmer waiting room. She had never before been in the King's
study, and she had fancied it very different from what it really was
when she had tried to picture to herself the coming interview. She had
supposed the room small, sombre, littered with books and papers, and
cold; it was, on the contrary, so spacious as to be almost a hall, it
was brightly illuminated and warmed by the big wood fire. Magnificent
tapestries covered the walls with glowing colour, and upon one of these,
in barbaric bad taste, was hung a single great picture by Titian,
Philip's favourite master. Dolores blushed as she recognized in the face
of the insolent Venus the features of the Princess of Eboli. Prom his
accustomed chair, the King could see this painting. Everywhere in the
room there were rich objects that caught