“Of life, then, of life together,—­of all our lives in peace and love!  But first this must be set right.  It is late, but this must be done now—­at once.  There is only one way, there is only one thing to be done.”

He was silent for a moment, and his eyes looked quickly to the door and back to Dolores’ face.

“I cannot go away,” she cried, nestling to him.  “You will not make me go?  What does it matter?”

“It matters much.  It will matter much more hereafter.”  He was on his feet, and all his energy and graceful strength came back as if he had received no hurt.  “There is little time left, but what there is, is ours.  Inez!” He was at the door.  “Is no one there upon the terrace?  Is there no servant, no sentry?  Ho, there!  Who are you?  Come here, man!  Let me see your face!  Adonis?”

Inez and the dwarf were in the door.  Dolores was behind him, looking out, not knowing what he meant to do.  He had his hand on the dwarf’s arm in his haste.  The crooked creature looked up, half in fear.

“Quick!  Go!” cried Don John.  “Get me a priest, a monk, a bishop,—­anything that wears a frock and can speak Latin.  Bring him here.  Threaten his life, in my name, if you like.  Tell him Don John of Austria is in extreme need, and must have a priest.  Quick, man!  Fly!  Your life and fortune are in your legs!  Off, man!  Off!”

Adonis was already gone, rolling through the gloom with swinging arms, more like a huge bat than anything human, and at a rate of speed none would have guessed latent in his little twisted legs.  Don John drew back within the door.

“Stay within,” he said to Dolores, gently pressing her backwards into the room.  “I will let no one pass till the priest comes; and then the world may come, too, and welcome,—­and the court and the King, and the devil and all his angels!” He laughed aloud in his excitement.

“You have not told me,” Dolores began, but her eyes laughed in his.

“But you know without words,” he answered.  “When that is done which a priest can do in an instant, and no one else, the world is ours, with all it holds, in spite of men and women and Kings!”

“It is ours already,” she cried happily.  “But is this wise, love?  Are you not too quick?”

“Would you have me slow when you and your name and my honour are all at stake on one quick throw?  Can we play too quickly at such a game with fate?  There will be time, just time, no more.  For when the news is known, it will spread like fire.  I wonder that no one comes yet.”

He listened, and Inez’ hearing was ten times more sensitive than his, but there was no sound.  For besides Dolores and Inez only the dwarf and the Princess of Eboli knew that Don John was living; and the Princess had imposed silence on the jester and was in no haste to tell the news until she should decide who was to know it first and how her own advantage could be secured.  So there was time, and Adonis