was waiting.  She went forward in a dream, without pausing.  Since she had freed her father she had a right to go back to her grief.  But as she went along, lightly and quickly, it seemed beyond her own belief that she should have found strength for what she had done that night.  For the strength of youth is elastic and far beyond its own knowledge.  Dolores had reached the last passage that led out upon the terrace, when she heard hurrying footsteps behind her, and a woman in a cloak slipped beside her, walking very easily and smoothly.  It was the Princess of Eboli.  She had left the dwarf, after frightening him into giving up his search for Dolores, and she was hastening to Don John’s rooms to make sure that the jester had not deceived her or been himself deceived in some way she could not understand.

Dolores had lost her cloak in the hall, and was bareheaded, in her court dress.  The Princess recognized her in the gloom and stopped her.

“I have looked for you everywhere,” she said.  “Why did you run away from me before?”

“It was my blind sister who was with you,” answered Dolores, who knew her voice at once and had understood from her father what had happened.  “Where are you going now?” she asked, without giving the Princess time to put a question.

“I was looking for you.  I wish you to come and stay with me to-night—­”

“I will stay with my father.  I thank you for your kindness, but I would not on any account leave him now.”

“Your father is in prison—­in the west tower—­he has just been sent there.  How can you stay with him?”

“You are well informed,” said Dolores quietly.  “But your husband is just now gone to release him.  I gave Don Ruy Gomez the order which his Majesty had himself placed in my hands, and the Prince was kind enough to take it to the west tower himself.  My father is unconditionally free.”

The Princess looked fixedly at Dolores while the girl was speaking, but it was very dark in the corridor and the lamp was flickering to go out in the night breeze.  The only explanation of Mendoza’s release lay in the fact that the King was already aware that Don John was alive and in no danger.  In that case Dolores knew it, too.  It was no great matter, though she had hoped to keep the girl out of the way of hearing the news for a day or two.  Dolores’ mournful face might have told her that she was mistaken, if there had been more light; but it was far too dark to see shades of colour or expression.

“So your father is free!” she said.  “Of course, that was to be expected, but I am glad that he has been set at liberty at once.”

“I do not think it was exactly to be expected,” answered Dolores, in some surprise, and wondering whether there could have been any simpler way of getting what she had obtained by such extraordinary means.

“He might have been kept under arrest until to-morrow morning, I suppose,” said the Princess quietly.  “But the King is of course anxious to destroy the unpleasant impression produced by this absurd affair, as soon as possible.”