When Inez, therefore, was brought into his presence by his emissaries, he affected not to notice her terror and surprise, but received her with formal and stately courtesy.  He was too wary a fowler to flutter the bird when just entangled in the net.  To her eager and wild inquiries about her father, he begged her not to be alarmed; that he was safe, and had been there, but was engaged elsewhere in an affair of moment, from which he would soon return; in the meantime, he had left word that she should await his return in patience.  After some stately expressions of general civility, Don Ambrosio made a ceremonious bow and retired.

The mind of Inez was full of trouble and perplexity.  The stately formality of Don Ambrosio was so unexpected as to check the accusations and reproaches that were springing to her lips.  Had he had evil designs, would he have treated her with such frigid ceremony when he had her in his power?  But why, then, was she brought to his house?  Was not the mysterious disappearance of Antonio connected with this?  A thought suddenly darted into her mind.  Antonio had again met with Don Ambrosio—­they had fought—­Antonio was wounded—­perhaps dying!  It was him to whom her father had gone—­it was at his request that Don Ambrosio had sent for them, to soothe his dying moments!  These, and a thousand such horrible suggestions, harassed her mind; but she tried in vain to get information from the domestics; they knew nothing but that her father had been there, had gone, and would soon return.

Thus passed a night of tumultuous thought, and vague yet cruel apprehensions.  She knew not what to do or what to believe—­whether she ought to fly, or to remain; but if to fly, how was she to extricate herself?—­and where was she to seek her father?  As the day dawned without any intelligence of him, her alarm increased; at length a message was brought from him, saying that circumstances prevented his return to her, but begging her to hasten to him without delay.

With an eager and throbbing heart did she set forth with the men that were to conduct her.  She little thought, however, that she was merely changing her prison-house.  Don Ambrosio had feared lest she should be traced to his residence in Granada; or that he might be interrupted there before he could accomplish his plan of seduction.  He had her now conveyed, therefore, to a mansion which he possessed in one of the mountain solitudes in the neighbourhood of Granada; a lonely, but beautiful retreat.  In vain, on her arrival, did she look around for her father or Antonio; none but strange faces met her eye:  menials, profoundly respectful, but who knew nor saw anything but what their master pleased.

She had scarcely arrived before Don Ambrosio made his appearance, less stately in his manner, but still treating her with the utmost delicacy and deference.  Inez was too much agitated and alarmed to be baffled by his courtesy, and became vehement in her demand to be conducted to her father.