This talk had taken place in a cupola. Down the stair, with stealthy steps, crept a young, horrified, trembling girl.
Francesca, knowing that her father had gone to the cupola, had followed him to talk with him. She had halted on hearing voices. Now, with despair in her eyes, the terrified girl stole away like one haunted and hunted by evil spirits.
"My father—an intending murderer! He, of a proud hidalgo family, a vile assassin, in thought at least?" moaned the girl, wringing her hands as soon as she had stolen to the privacy of her own rooms.
"My father's hands—to be covered with human blood!" sobbed Francesca, sinking down before a crucifix to pray.
For hours the girl remained in terror-stricken solitude. Then she rose, somewhat comforted at last, and with the aid of cold water removed the traces of her tears from her dark, beautiful face.
Her plan was to seek her father, throw herself at his feet, and beg him not to disgrace the blood of the hidalgos nor to destroy his own soul with a hideous crime.
"I must seek him in private. There must be no others near when
I make my appeal!" thought the girl.
Just then a servant entered.
"Your father is in the garden, Senorita Francesca," reported the woman, "and wonders why you do not join him. It is his wish that you join him now."
"Say to my father that his wish is my law," quavered the terrified girl.