joy. My heart will bound with thankfulness when I am told to prepare
for going forth to the stake."

Don Francisco stepped forward and raised the manacled hand of the
speaker to his lips. Then, casting one more glance of respect and
sorrow at that still lovely countenance before him, he hastened from the
cell, drawing his hat over his brow to conceal his agitation; then
wrapping his cloak around him, he took his way through the narrow
passages which led to the vaults, guided by one of the familiars of the
Inquisition, till he reached the door of an apartment, at which his
guide stopped and knocked. A voice desired him to enter. Don Francisco
passed through the doorway, and stood in the presence of the Archbishop
Munebrega.

"Do you expect to move her, Don Francisco?" asked the Archbishop, eyeing
him narrowly.

"My lord, I do not," answered Don Francisco, firmly; "yet I warn you
that severe treatment will not effect your purpose. For myself, I would
beg that I might not be again requested to visit her; but I yet entreat
that her chains may be removed, and that she may be placed in a room
where the light of day is allowed to enter, and be supplied with food
such as her delicate nature requires."

"Don Francisco, you ask what it may be impossible for me to grant,"
answered the Archbishop, again casting a penetrating glance towards him;
"but I will make known your request to my coadjutors, and, should they
see fit, it may be granted."

Don Francisco was glad when the interview with the Archbishop came to a
close. He well knew the character of the man with whom he had to deal,
and he dreaded lest any word he might incautiously drop should betray
him. He hurried home. Already he had made every preparation which was
possible for his journey. As the shades of evening drew on he left his
house, and all the comforts and luxuries it contained, feeling that he
should never return. Keeping his countenance concealed with his cloak,
he passed unquestioned through the gates. Now he hurried on at a rapid
pace for a league or more from the city. Then, turning on one side, he
entered a small wood. He had not gone far when he found, standing under
the trees, two horses, held by a short man in the costume of a muleteer.

"Ah! my friend Julianillo, I knew that I could trust you, and I am
thankful that you have not failed me. It is time, if I would save my
life, that I should leave Valladolid. Already the savage Munebre