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.
"Grandees of Spain!" she began, and at the first words she found strength in her voice so that it reached the ends of the hall, clear and vibrating.

The silence was intense, as she proceeded.
"My father has accused himself of a fearful crime.