Without the door, there was a stone landing, guarded on either side by an iron rail, which led down a flight of steps to the garden. Above the landing, on a level with the top of the door, was a sort of veranda, open at the sides, which ran the whole length of the rails. Inez now perceived, what she had not thought of before, that this veranda was immediately beneath the casement from which her lover had made his egress, and she doubted not that he had easily lit upon it from the casement-sill, and thence leaped to the ground. A thrill of joy shot through her frame, as, measuring the height of the veranda with her eye, she perceived that he could do this without incurring any hurt; and the prompt manner in which he had seized such a means of escape, when the danger must have been yet remote, and the expediency of retreat could hardly have occurred to him, led her to look upon his image with more confirmed admiration.
Nevertheless, he could not have got out of the garden; for, on his entry with her duenna, the latter had locked the gate which, as was shown heretofore, opened into the street, and there was no other outlet but through the house. She determined, therefore, pursuant to her original intention, to seek him in the garden, and lend him her aid to get clear off.
She passed on for some little time, without observing anything to cause her the least alarm. At length, turning a sweep in the walk, where the area was less confined, her eye took in a more extended range, and she was able to distinguish objects more clearly. Here, as she gazed earnestly round, her eye fell on a large orange-tree, a few paces in her front; and she distinctly discerned two men, muffled in long cloaks, standing against its trunk. She turned to flee directly, but, in the hurry of her retreat, she forgot how necessary it was to proceed with caution, and the tread of her feet, reverberated by the wet ground, made the two men sensible of her vicinity. One of them called to her, in a voice which she recognised as her guardian’s, to come to a halt, and, at the same time, prepared to give her chase. But Inez fled at her last speed. Turning the sweep already noticed, she came abreast of a walk which, breaking through a small shrubbery, led to the further end of the garden; and this suggested itself to her as a safe route for retreat. But the steps of her pursuers were close in her wake, and the difficulty of escape, if it depended solely on her speed, became every moment more and more apparent. Moreover, her breath was failing her, and her energies were, what with fear, and what with her exertions, nearly exhausted. In this dilemma, she came to a stand, intending to deliver herself up. As the steps of her pursuers drew nearer, however, her desire to escape revived, and, with something like renewed hope, she stepped out of the walk, and hid herself among the contiguous shrubs.
Her pursuers soon came abreast of her hiding-place. To her great terror, however, they did not pass on, but halted right before her. She kept her eyes continually upon them, every minute expecting to see them move away; but minute after minute expired, in slow and melancholy succession, and they were still stationary. Her stooping position, though relieved of some of its weariness by the support of her hands, was growing painful; but she was afraid to move—she hardly ventured to breathe. The excitement was becoming intolerable, when, after an interval of about half an hour, one of the cavaliers spoke.
“Dost think it was he?” he asked of his companion.
“No,” answered the other. “I fear me he hath got off.”
“Art thou sure he was ever here?” asked the first speaker.
“Did I not tell thee I dogged him, and the old duenna, Amina, almost to the very gate?” replied the other.
“Thou canst hardly be mistaken, then,” said the first speaker. “If he have escaped, ’tis through thy pestilent knave of a groom, whom we sent, with a charge to use his utmost despatch, for the guard of alguazils.”