"You do not need to say more," she said clearly; "I am an Andalucian."
Rollo turned to Muñoz. Not being a Spaniard, he thought it necessary to make the matter yet more clear.
"You have heard," he said; "treachery will do you no good, and may indeed suddenly deprive her reigning Majesty of the inestimable consolations of your companionship. Be good enough to accompany this young lady, sir. In ten minutes I shall expect your return with a favourable answer. Permit them to pass, Don Ramon!"
But the consort of the Queen-Regent Maria Cristina fingered his chin uncertainly without moving, and Rollo's brow darkened ominously, while the Sergeant began to look hopeful. Neither were in the mood to put up calmly with any further refusal or hesitation.
"I am quite willing—nay, even anxious to oblige you," said Muñoz; "I would gladly undertake the commission, but—but——!"
He stopped as if searching for words, still, however, rubbing his chin.
"But what?" thundered Rollo. The blood of all the Blairs was rising.
"Well, to put the matter plainly, I have never appeared before her Majesty in this condition before. You would not have me go as I am?"
"In what condition?" cried the Scot in great astonishment.
"Unshaven, and with my hair undressed. That idiot there"—pointing to the trembling valet—"spilt the water just when you came in."