“Does his Majesty consult you on matters of state?” inquired Don John.  “Answer quickly, for I must be going.”

“It takes twice as long to tell a story to two men, as to tell it to one,—­when you have to tell them different stories,”

“Go, Fadrique,” said Don John, “and shut the door.”

The dwarf, seeing the servant gone, beckoned Don John to the other side of the room.

“It is no great secret, being only the King’s,” he said.  “His Majesty bids me tell your Serene Highness that he wishes to speak with you privately about some matters, and that he will come here soon after supper, and begs you to be alone.”

“I will be here—­alone.”

“Excellent, sir.  Now there is another matter of secrecy which is just the contrary of what I have told you, for it is a secret from the King.  A lady laid a letter and two white carnations on your writing-table.  If there is any answer to be taken, I will take it.”

“There is none,” answered Don John sternly, “Tell the lady that I burned the letter without reading it.  Go, Adonis, and the next time you come here, do not bring messages from women.  Fadrique!”

“Your Highness burned the letter without reading it?”

“Yes.  Fadrique!”

“I am sorry,” said the dwarf, in a low voice.

No more words were spoken, and in a few moments there was deep silence, for they were all gone, and Dolores was alone, locked into the little room.

* * * * *

CHAPTER VI

The great throne room of the palace was crowded with courtiers long before the time when the King and Queen and Don John of Austria were to appear, and the entries and halls by which it was approached were almost as full.  Though the late November air was keen, the state apartments were at summer heat, warmed by thousands of great wax candles that burned in chandeliers, and in huge sconces and on high candelabra that stood in every corner.  The light was everywhere, and was very soft and yellow, while the odour of the wax itself was perceptible in the air, and helped the impression that the great concourse was gathered in a wide cathedral for some solemn function rather than in a throne room to welcome a victorious soldier.  Vast tapestries, dim and rich in the thick air, covered the walls between the tall Moorish windows, and above them the great pointed vaulting, ornamented with the fantastically modelled stucco of the Moors, was like the creamy crests of waves lashed into foam by the wind, thrown upright here, and there blown forward in swift spray, and then again breaking in the fall to thousands of light and exquisite shapes; and the whole vault thus gathered up the light of the candles into itself and shed it downward, distributing it into every corner and lighting every face in a soft and golden glow.