"Don John will tell you, when you see him," she continued. "I sent him two letters this evening. The first he burned unopened, because he thought it was a love letter, but he has read the second by this time. He had it before supper."
"What did you write to him?" asked Inez, whispering low.
"He will tell you. The substance was this: If he would only be prudent, and consent to wait two days, and not attempt to see you alone, which would make a scandal, and injure you, too, if any one knew it, the King would arrange everything at his own pleasure, and your father would give his consent. You have not seen Don John since he arrived, have you?" She asked the question anxiously.
"Oh no!" answered the blind girl, with conviction. "I have not seen him. I wish to Heaven I had!"
"I am glad of that," whispered the Princess. "But if you will come with me to my apartments, and stay with me till matters are arranged--well--I will not promise, because it might be dangerous, but perhaps you may see him for a moment."
"Really? Do you think that is possible?" In the dark Inez was smiling sadly.
"Perhaps. He might come to see me, for instance, or my husband, and I could leave you together a moment."
"That would be heaven!" And the whisper came from the heart.
"Then come with me now, my dear, and I will do my best," answered the Princess.
"Indeed I will! But will you wait one moment while I dress? I am in my old frock--it is hardly fit to be seen."