Granada was on that evening a scene of fanciful revel.  It was one of the festivals of the Maestranza, an association of the nobility to keep up some of the gallant customs of ancient chivalry.  There had been a representation of a tournament in one of the squares; the streets would still occasionally resound with the beat of a solitary drum, or the bray of a trumpet from some straggling party of revellers.  Sometimes they were met by cavaliers, richly dressed in ancient costumes, attended by their squires; and at one time they passed in sight of a palace brilliantly illuminated, from whence came the mingled sounds of music and the dance.  Shortly after, they came to the square where the mock tournament had been held.  It was thronged by the populace, recreating themselves among booths and stalls where refreshments were sold, and the glare of torches showed the temporary galleries, and gay-coloured awnings, and armorial trophies, and other paraphernalia of the show.  The conductors of Inez endeavoured to keep out of observation, and to traverse a gloomy part of the square; but they were detained at one place by the pressure of a crowd surrounding a party of wandering musicians, singing one of those ballads of which the Spanish populace are so passionately fond.  The torches which were held by some of the crowd, threw a strong mass of light upon Inez, and the sight of so beautiful a being, without mantilla or veil, looking so bewildered, and conducted by men who seemed to take no gratification in the surrounding gayety, occasioned expressions of curiosity.  One of the ballad-singers approached, and striking her guitar with peculiar earnestness, began to sing a doleful air, full of sinister forebodings.  Inez started with surprise.  It was the same ballad-singer that had addressed her in the garden of the Generaliffe.

It was the same air that she had then sung.  It spoke of impending dangers; they seemed, indeed, to be thickening around her.  She was anxious to speak with the girl, and to ascertain whether she really had a knowledge of any definite evil that was threatening her; but, as she attempted to address her, the mule, on which she rode, was suddenly seized, and led forcibly through the throng by one of her conductors, while she saw another addressing menacing words to the ballad-singer.  The latter raised her hand with a warning gesture, as Inez lost sight of her.

While she was yet lost in perplexity, caused by this singular occurrence, they stopped at the gate of a large mansion.  One of her attendants knocked, the door was opened, and they entered a paved court.  “Where are we?” demanded Inez, with anxiety.  “At the house of a friend, senora,” replied the man.  “Ascend this staircase with me, and in a moment you will meet your father.”

They ascended a staircase, that led to a suite of splendid apartments.  They passed through several, until they came to an inner chamber.  The door opened—­some one approached; but what was her terror at perceiving, not her father, but Don Ambrosio!