The court had been still at supper when Adonis had summoned Don Antonio Perez to the King, and the Secretary, as he was usually called, had been obliged to excuse his sudden departure by explaining that the King had sent for him unexpectedly.  He was not even able to exchange a word with Dona Ana, who was seated at another of the three long tables and at some distance from him.  She understood, however, and looked after him anxiously.  His leaving was not signal for the others, but it caused a little stir which unhinged the solemn formality of the supper.  The Ambassador of the Holy Roman Empire presently protested that he was suffering from an unbearable headache, and the Princess of Eboli, next to whom he was seated, begged him not to stand upon ceremony, since Perez was gone from the room, but to order his coach at once; she found it hot, she said, and would be glad to escape.  The two rose together, and others followed their example, until the few who would have stayed longer were constrained to imitate the majority.  When Mendoza, relieved at last from his duty, went towards the supper-room to take the place that was kept for him at one of the tables, he met Dona Ana in the private corridor through which the officers and ladies of the household passed to the state apartments.  He stood still, surprised to see her there.

“The supper is over,” she said, stopping also, and trying to scrutinize the hard old face by the dim light of the lamps.  “May I have a word with you, General?  Let us walk together to your apartments.”

“It is far, Madam,” observed Mendoza, who suspected at once that she wished to see Dolores.

“I shall be glad to walk a little, and breathe the air,” she answered.  “Your corridor has arches open to the air, I remember.”  She began to walk, and he was obliged to accompany her.  “Yes,” she continued indifferently, “we have had such changeable weather to-day!  This morning it almost snowed, then it rained, then it, began to freeze, and now it feels like summer!  I hope Dolores has not taken cold?  Is she ill?  She was not at court before supper.”

“The weather is indeed very changeable,” replied the General, who did not know what to say, and considered it beneath his dignity to lie except by order of the King.

“Yes—­yes, I was saying so, was I not?  But Dolores—­is she ill?  Please tell me.”  The Princess spoke almost anxiously.

“No, Madam, my daughters are well, so far as I know.”

“But then, my dear General, it is strange that you should not have sent an excuse for Dolores’ not appearing.  That is the rule, you know.  May I ask why you ventured to break it?” Her tone grew harder by degrees.

“It was very sudden,” said Mendoza, trying to put her off.  “I hope that your Grace will excuse my daughter.”

“What was sudden?” enquired Dona Ana coldly.  “You say she was not taken ill.”

“Her—­her not coming to court.”  Mendoza hesitated and pulled at his grey beard as they went along.  “She fully intended to come,” he added, with perfect truth.