“You shall not regret that you trust me, and you will be quite safe,” he said.

She wanted no more.  Loving as she did, she believed in him without promises, yet she could not always believe that he quite knew how she loved him.

“You are dearer to me than I knew,” he said presently, breaking the silence that followed.  “I love you even more, and I thought it could never be more, when I found you here a little while ago—­because you do really trust me.”

“You knew it,” the said, nestling to him.  “But you wanted me to tell you.  Yes—­we are nearer now.”

“Far nearer—­and a world more dear,” he answered.  “Do you know?  In all these months I have often and often again wondered how we should meet, whether it would be before many people, or only with your sister Inez there—­or perhaps alone.  But I did not dare hope for that.”

“Nor I. I have dreamt of meeting you a hundred times—­and more than that!  But there was always some one in the way.  I suppose that if we had found each other in the court and had only been able to say a few words, it would have been a long time before we were quite ourselves together—­but now, it seems as if we had never been parted at all, does it not?”

“As if we could never be parted again,” he answered softly.

For a little while there was silence, and though there was to be a great gathering of the court, that night, all was very still where the lovers sat at the window, for the throne room and the great halls of state were far away on the other side of the palace, and the corridor looked upon a court through which few persons had to pass at night.  Suddenly from a distance there came the rhythmical beat of the Spanish drums, as some detachment of troops marched by the outer gate.  Don John listened.

“Those are my men,” he said.  “We must go, for now that they are below I can send my people on errands with orders to them, until I am alone.  Then you must come in.  At the end of my apartments there is a small room, beyond my own.  It is furnished to be my study, and no one will expect to enter it at night.  I must put you there, and lock the door and take the key with me, so that no one can go in while I am at court—­or else you can lock it on the inside, yourself.  That would be better, perhaps,” he added rather hurriedly.

“No,” said the girl quietly.  “I prefer that you should have the key.  I shall feel even safer.  But how can I get there without being seen?  We cannot go so far together without meeting some one.”

He rose, and she stood up beside him.

“My apartments open upon the broad terrace on the south side,” he said.  “At this time there will be only two or three officers there, and my two servants.  Follow me at a little distance, with your hood over your face, and when you reach the sentry-box at the corner where I turn off, go in.  There will be no sentinel there, and the door looks outward.  I shall send away every one, on different errands, in five minutes.  When every one is gone I will come for you.  Is that clear?”