“Will you kindly let me pass?” she asked at last, in a gentle tone, “I am Dolores de Mendoza.”

At the name the group that barred her passage started and made way, and going through she came upon the Prince of Eboli, not far from the steps of the throne.  The English Ambassador, who meant to stay as long as there was anything for him to observe, was still by the Prince’s side.  Dolores addressed the latter without hesitation.

“Don Ruy Gomez,” she said, “I ask your help.  My father is innocent, and I can prove it.  But the court must hear me—­every one must hear the truth.  Will you help me?  Can you make them listen?”

Ruy Gomez looked down at Dolores’ pale and determined features in courteous astonishment.

“I am at your service,” he answered.  “But what are you going to say?  The court is in a dangerous mood to-night.”

“I must speak to all,” said Dolores.  “I am not afraid.  What I have to say cannot be said twice—­not even if I had the strength.  I can save my father—­”

“Why not go to the King at once?” argued the Prince, who feared trouble.

“For the love of God, help me to do as I wish!” Dolores grasped his arm, and spoke with an effort.  “Let me tell them all, how I know that my father is not guilty of the murder.  After that take me to the King if you will.”

She spoke very earnestly, and he no longer opposed her.  He knew the temper of the court well enough, and was sure that whatever proved Mendoza innocent would be welcome just then, and though he was far too loyal to wish the suspicion of the deed to be fixed upon the King, he was too just not to desire Mendoza to be exculpated if he were innocent.

“Come with me,” he said briefly, and he took Dolores by the hand, and led her up the first three steps of the platform, so that she could see over the heads of all present.

It was no time to think of court ceremonies or customs, for there was danger in the air.  Ruy Gomez did not stop to make any long ceremony.  Drawing himself up to his commanding height, he held up his white gloves at arm’s length to attract the attention of the courtiers, and in a few moments there was silence.  They seemed an hour of torture to Dolores.  Ruy Gomez raised his voice.

“Grandees!  The daughter of Don Diego de Mendoza stands here at my side to prove to you that he is innocent of Don John of Austria’s death!”

The words had hardly left his lips when a shout went up, like a ringing cheer.  But again he raised his hand.

“Hear Dona Maria Dolores de Mendoza!” he cried.

Then he stepped a little away from Dolores, and looked towards her.  She was dead white, and her lips trembled.  There was an almost glassy look in her eyes, and still she pressed one hand to her bosom, and the other hung by her side, the fingers twitching nervously against the folds of her skirt.  A few seconds passed before she could speak.