Dona Ana walked more slowly, glancing sideways at his face, though she could hardly see it except when they passed by a lamp, for he was very tall, and she was short, though exquisitely proportioned.

“I do not understand,” she said, in a clear, metallic voice.  “I have a right to an explanation, for it is quite impossible to give the ladies of the court who live in the palace full liberty to attend upon the Queen or not, as they please.  You will be singularly fortunate if Don Antonio Perez does not mention the matter to the King.”

Mendoza was silent, but the words had their effect upon him, and a very unpleasant one, for they contained a threat.

“You see,” continued the Princess, pausing as they reached a flight of steps which they would have to ascend, “every one acknowledges the importance of your services, and that you have been very poorly rewarded for them.  But that is in a degree your own fault, for you have refused to make friends when you might, and you have little interest with the King.”

“I know it,” said the old soldier, rather bitterly.  “Princess,” he continued, without giving her time to say more, “this is a private matter, which concerns only me and my daughter.  I entreat you to overlook the irregularity and not to question me further.  I will serve you in any way in my power—­”

“You cannot serve me in any way,” answered Dona Ana cruelly.  “I am trying to help you,” she added, with a sudden change of tone.  “You see, my dear General, you are no longer young.  At your age, with your name and your past services, you should have been a grandee and a rich man.  You have thrown away your opportunities of advancement, and you have contented yourself with an office which is highly honourable—­but poorly paid, is it not?  And there are younger men who court it for the honour alone, and who are willing to be served by their friends.”

“Who is my successor?” asked Mendoza, bravely controlling his voice though he felt that he was ruined.

The skilful and cruel woman began to mount the steps in silence, in order to let him suffer a few moments, before she answered.  Reaching the top, she spoke, and her voice was soft and kind.

“No one,” she answered, “and there is nothing to prevent you from keeping your post as long as you like, even if you become infirm and have to appoint a deputy—­but if there were any serious cause of complaint, like this extraordinary behaviour of Dolores—­why, perhaps—­”

She paused to give her words weight, for she knew their value.

“Madam,” said Mendoza, “the matter I keep from you does not touch my honour, and you may know it, so far as that is concerned.  But it is one of which I entreat you not to force me to speak.”

Dona Ana softly passed her arm through his.

“I am not used to walking so fast,” she said, by way of explanation.  “But, my dear Mendoza,” she went on, pressing his arm a little, “you do not think that I shall let what you tell me go further and reach any one else—­do you?  How can I be of any use to you, if you have no confidence in me?  Are we not relatives?  You must treat me as I treat you.”