“Yes,” answered Dona Ana, stopping at ten paces from the door, “I am wise, for I am obliged to be.  Now, if instead of locking Dolores into her room two or three hours ago, you had come to me, and told me the truth, and put her under my protection, for our common good, I would have made it quite impossible for her to exchange a word with Don John, and I would have taken such good care of her that instead of gossiping about her, the world would have said that she was high in favour, and would have begun to pay court to her.  You know that I have the power to do that.”

“How very wise you are!” exclaimed Mendoza again, with more emphasis.

“Very well.  Will you let me take her with me now, my dear friend?  I will console her a little, for I daresay she has been crying all alone in her room, poor girl, and I can keep her with me till Don John goes to Villagarcia.  Then we shall see.”

Old Mendoza was a very simple-hearted man, as brave men often are, and a singularly spotless life spent chiefly in war and austere devotion had left him more than ignorant of the ways of the world.  He had few friends, chiefly old comrades of his own age who did not live in the palace, and he detested gossip.  Had he known what the woman was with whom he was speaking, he would have risked Dolores’ life rather than give her into the keeping of Dona Ana.  But to him, the latter was simply the wife of old Don Ruy Gomez de Silva, the Minister of State, and she was the head of the Queen’s household.  No one would have thought of repeating the story of a court intrigue to Mendoza, but it was also true that every one feared Dona Ana, whose power was boundless, and no one wished to be heard speaking ill of her.  To him, therefore, her proposition seemed both wise and kind.

“I am very grateful,” he said, with some emotion, for he believed that she was helping him to save his fortune and his honour, as was perhaps really the case, though she would have helped him to lose both with equally persuasive skill could his ruin have served her.  “Will you come in with me, Princess?” he asked, beginning to move towards the door.

“Yes.  Take me to her room and leave me with her.”

“Indeed, I would rather not see her myself this evening,” said Mendoza, feeling his anger still not very far from the surface.  “You will be able to speak more wisely than I should.”

“I daresay,” answered Dona Ana thoughtfully.  “If you went with me to her, there might be angry words again, and that would make it much harder for me.  If you will leave me at the door of her rooms, and then go away, I will promise to manage the rest.  You are not sorry that you have told me, now, are you, my dear friend?”

“I am most grateful to you.  I shall do all I can to be of service to you, even though you said that it was not in my power to serve you.”

“I was annoyed,” said Dona Ana sweetly.  “I did not mean it—­please forgive me.”