“What did you write to him?” asked Inez, whispering low.

“He will tell you.  The substance was this:  If he would only be prudent, and consent to wait two days, and not attempt to see you alone, which would make a scandal, and injure you, too, if any one knew it, the King would arrange everything at his own pleasure, and your father would give his consent.  You have not seen Don John since he arrived, have you?” She asked the question anxiously.

“Oh no!” answered the blind girl, with conviction.  “I have not seen him.  I wish to Heaven I had!”

“I am glad of that,” whispered the Princess.  “But if you will come with me to my apartments, and stay with me till matters are arranged—­well—­I will not promise, because it might be dangerous, but perhaps you may see him for a moment.”

“Really?  Do you think that is possible?” In the dark Inez was smiling sadly.

“Perhaps.  He might come to see me, for instance, or my husband, and I could leave you together a moment.”

“That would be heaven!” And the whisper came from the heart.

“Then come with me now, my dear, and I will do my best,” answered the Princess.

“Indeed I will!  But will you wait one moment while I dress?  I am in my old frock—­it is hardly fit to be seen.”

This was quite true; but Inez had reflected that dressed as she was she could not pass Eudaldo and be taken by him for her sister, even with a hood over her head.  The clothes Dolores had worn before putting on her court dress were in her room, and Dolores’ hood was there, too.  Before the Princess could answer, Inez was gone, closing the door of the bedroom behind her.  Dona Ana, a little taken by surprise again, was fain to wait where she was, in the dark, at the risk of hurting herself against the furniture.  Then it struck her that Dolores must be dressing in the dark, for no light had come from the door as it was opened and shut.  She remembered the blind sister then, and she wondered idly whether those who lived continually with the blind learned from them to move easily in the dark and to do everything without a light.  The question did not interest her much, but while she was thinking of it the door opened again.  A skirt and a bodice are soon changed.  In a moment she felt her hand taken, and she rose to her feet.

“I am ready, Princess.  I will open the door if you will come with me.  I have covered my head and face,” she added carelessly, though always whispering, “because I am afraid of the night air.”

“I was going to advise you to do it in any case, my dear.  It is just as well that neither of us should be recognized by any one in the corridors so far from my apartments.”

The door opened and let in what seemed a flood of light by comparison with the darkness.  The Princess went forward, and Eudaldo got upon his legs as quickly as he could to let the two ladies out, without looking at them as they crossed the hall.  Inez followed her companion’s footfall exactly, keeping one step behind her by ear, and just pausing before passing out.  The old servant saw Dolores’ dress and Dolores’ hood, which he expected to see, and no more suspected anything than he had when, as he supposed, Inez, had gone out earlier.