Evening came, and Russell, with Rita's assistance, put on the woman's dress over his general's uniform. The skill of Rita was exerted to give her companion the appearance of a female somewhat stricken in years, and her success was marked.
Perhaps it was this very success that affected the soul of Russell; for no sooner did he look like an old woman than he began to feel and act like one. Away went all his courage, and he would have drawn back after all, had not Rita urged and almost forced him away.
"Allarighta," she said. "The men all gone insidar, and so ongry they think of ony the eaters. So come, my dear. No one shall see. You be trust to myselfa—an' we go like snake in the grasses."
Russell thus allowed himself to be hurried away by his bolder companion on the path that led to liberty. Rita led the way out into the upper hall, and Russell followed, not without great trepidation, and bitter regret at his rashness, expecting at every step to see "His Majesty," and of course to be arrested and flung into some deep, dark dungeon. One or two men were there, who, however, took no notice of them.
After this they descended the stairs and entered the lower hall. Here, to the immense dismay of Russell, he beheld what seemed to be the entire Carlist band. It was their feeding-time. A huge pot was in the middle of the hall, and these men were dipping out of it their respective portions of some savory mess whose odor filled the air. Russell shrunk down almost into his boots at the first sight; but as Rita walked along, he had no alternative except to follow her. Little danger was there, however, of his being observed. All the men were too intent upon their evening meal to notice what seemed like two very commonplace women who probably belonged to the castle. And thus Russell, to his unspeakable relief, passed through this ordeal unquestioned and even unnoticed.
Having passed through the lower hall, they emerged into the outer court-yard. Here, as he passed through the door, Russell was just drawing a long breath, and thinking within himself that the worst was over, when suddenly, without any warning, there approached them no less a personage than "His Majesty" himself—the very last man, as it is needless to say, whom Russell would have chosen to meet. At that sight the soul of Russell, which had been slowly struggling upward, once more sank down into his boots, carrying down with it all hope, and all desire, and almost all consciousness.
There was not the slightest chance of avoiding him. He was coming straight toward them. What was worse, his eyes were fixed upon them.
"Ah, Rita," said "His Majesty" in Spanish, "where are you going in the dark?"
Bita paused and made a low obeisance. Russell did the same.
"I'm going over there to see about some washing," said Rita.