He bowed his head vaguely, and--if any had been there to listen--within ten short minutes they might have heard two horses galloping hard towards the Seville gate.
Now, escorted by pages and torch-bearers, the new-wed pair repassed those dim and stately halls, the bride, veiled, mysterious, fateful; the bridegroom, empty-eyed, like one who wanders in his sleep.

Thus they reached their chamber, and its carved doors shut behind them.
* * * * * It was early morning, and the serving-women who waited without that room were summoned to it by the sound of a silver gong.

Two of them entered and were met by Betty, no longer veiled, but wrapped in a loose robe, who said to them: "My lord the marquis still sleeps.

Come, help me dress and make ready his bath and food." The women stared at her, for now that she had washed the paint from her face they knew well that this was the Senora Betty and not the Dona Margaret, whom, they had understood, the marquis was to marry.

But she chid them sharply in her bad Spanish, bidding them be swift, as she would be robed before her husband should awake.