She merely smiled. The question
did not greatly move her. Not knowing him for the scoundrel that
he was, guessing nothing of the present perturbation of his
senses, she found it very natural that he should ask her to
appoint the day.
"It is a question you must ask my father," she answered him.
"I will," said he, "to-morrow, on his return." And he drew her
down beside him.
But that father was nearer than either of them dreamed. At that
very moment the soft thud of the closing housedoor sounded
through the house. It brought her sharply to her feet, and loose
from his coiling arms, with quickened breath and blanching face.
A moment she hung there, tense, then sped to the door of the
room, set it ajar and listened.
Up the stairs came the sound of footsteps and of muttering
voices. It was her father, and others with him.
With ever-mounting fear she turned to Don Rodrigo, and breathed
the question: "If they should come here?"
The Castilian stood where he had risen by the divan, his face
paler now than its pale, aristocratic wont, his eyes reflecting
the fear that glittered in her own. He had no delusion as to what
action Diego de Susan would take upon discovering him. These
Jewish dogs were quickly stirred to passion, and as jealous as
their betters of the honour of their womenfolk.
Pages:
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73