"Dare not—Sebastian Quesada?" I cried, incredulously.
"Dare not. A hundred daggers would flash at his heart."
"Aye, but the hundred hands that could thrust them would be rotting in his prisons."
"It is impossible, impossible, impossible. I won't believe it; but I must have time to think. You madden me. I am fevered and frozen in turns by the thoughts you kindle, I must have time."
"Let me make a last appeal, Sarita. Marry me and come away. Leave all——"
"No, no," she broke in, passionately. "I cannot. I cannot. This is no problem that a coward's flight can solve."
"Well then, postpone this attempt on the young King until you have had time to inquire and search and think."
"I cannot think now. I will see you to-morrow—or better, will think over all and write you."
"No, I will come to-morrow," I said. "Promise you will see me."
"If I am in Madrid, I promise," she said; and with that, seeing how deeply she was agitated, I thought it best to leave.