hand, and Jayme de Marchena kissed it and thanked her. "I
would help if I could!" she said. "But in Spain to-day
it is deadly dangerous to talk or write as though there were
freedom!"

She passed from the gallery, Don Enrique and I following.
We came upon a landing with a great stair before us.
Quick as had been her maidens, they were not quick enough.
Many folk were coming up the broad steps. Dona Beatrix
glanced, then opened a door giving into a great room,
apparently empty. She pointed to an opposite door. "The
little stair! Go that way!" Don Enrique nodded comprehension.
We were in the room; the door closed.

At first it seemed an empty great chamber. Then from
behind a square of stretched cloth came a man's head, followed
by the figure pertaining to it. The full man was clad
after a rich fancy and he held in his hand a brush and
looked at us at first dreamily and then with keenness.

He knew me, differently arrayed though I was, and looked
from me to Don Enrique. "Master Manuel Rodriguez,"
said the latter, "I would stop for good talk and to admire
the Queen's likeness, but duty calls me out of palace!
Adios!" He made toward the door across from that by
which we had entered. The painter spoke after us. "That
door is bolted, Don Enrique, on the other side. I do not
know why! It is not usually so."

Don Enrique, turning, hurried to the first door and very