ey moved gainfully in spite of her, and visibly lost
colour.

"Perez," he said after a moment, "you may go and take some rest. I will
send for you when I need you."

The Secretary rose, bowed low, and left the room by a small masked door
in a corner. The King waited till he saw it close before he spoke again.
His tone changed a little then and his words came quickly, as if he felt
here constraint.

"I feel," he said, "that we are united by a common calamity, my dear. I
intend to take you under my most particular care and protection from
this very hour. Yes, I know!" he held up his hand o deprecate any
interruption, for Dolores seemed about to speak. "I know why you come to
me, you wish to intercede for your father. That is natural, and you are
right to come to me yourself, for I would rather hear your voice than
that of another speaking for you, and I would rather grant any mercy in
my power to you directly than to some personage of the court who would
be seeking his own interest as much as yours."

"I ask justice, not mercy, Sire," said Dolores, in a firm, low voice,
and the fire lightened in her eyes.

"Your father shall have both," answered Philip, "for they are
compatible."

"He needs no mercy," returned the young girl, "for he has done no harm.
Your Majesty knows that as well as I."

"If I knew that, my dear, your father would not be under arrest. I
cannot guess what you know or do not know--"

"I know the truth." She spoke so confidently that the King's expression
changed a little.

"I wish I did," he answered, with as much suavity as ever. "But tell me
what you think you know about this matter. You may help me to sift it,
and then I shall be the better able to help you, if such a thing be
possible. What do you know?"

Dolores leaned forward toward him from her seat, almost rising as she
lowered her voice to a whisper, her eyes fixed on his face.

"I was close behind the door your Majesty wished to open," she said. "I
heard every word; I heard your sword drawn and I heard Don John
fall--and then it was some time before I heard my father's voice, taking
the blame upon himself, lest it should be said that the King had
murdered his own brother in his room, unarmed. Is that the truth, or
not?"

While she was speaking, a greenish hue overspread Philip's face, ghastly
in the candlelight. He sat upright in his chair, his hands straining on
its arms and pushing, as if he would have got farther back if he c