But spite of the intervening room and the thick curtains the girl had heard his footsteps, light and quick, heard them across the entire breadth of the palace, from the moment when he had quitted Sergeant Cardono, to that when, drawing aside the hangings with his hand, he stood behind her.
Nevertheless, Concha did not move immediately, and Rollo, standing thus close to her, was, for the first time in his life, conscious of the atmosphere, delicate yet vivid, of youth, beauty, and charm, with which a loving and gracious woman surrounds herself as with a garment.
But these were stern times. He had come to her balcony for a purpose and—there was no time to be lost.
"Concha," he began without ceremony—for after the kiss, regulated and conscientious as it had been and clearly justifiable to his sense of honour and duty, somehow the prefacing "Señorita" had come to be omitted between them. "Concha, the little Queen is lost! She may be wandering out there to meet her death among brigands and murderers! It is my duty to go and seek her. Listen!"
And then when at last she turned from the window and slowly faced him, Rollo told her all that had taken place below.
"I knew you were in danger when the shots went off," she said; "yet since you had not called for me, nor given me leave to quit my post——"
She did not finish her sentence. It was a kind of reproach that he had called for the Sergeant and not for her in his hour of need. She knew on whom she would have called.
"You did well—better than well—to stand by your post," said Rollo; "but now I must make over my authority to another. The Sergeant is to command here in my absence."
"Do you then make my allegiance over to the Sergeant?" asked Concha, in a quiet tone.
"God forbid!" cried Rollo, impetuously.