“Angel!” cried the enraptured student, trembling with ecstasy.
“Hush!” whispered Rosaura. “Cambronero looks and laughs at us. Hear me, Federico. The decisive moment approaches; but I fear it not—I love and hope. It was Geronimo, disguised as a Gallego, who brought you to my abode; Geronimo hates him whom we hate; he knew me as a child, was my father’s friend, and loves us both. He spoke to me of you long before I saw you; he told me the hour of your walks in the Prado. At the first glance I recognised you.”
“And where is that singular man?” Federico inquired.
“I know not, but doubtless at no great distance. This night, a few hours ago, I lay sleepless on my pillow, anxious for your fate, when a carriage stopped at the door. It was surrounded with guards and torch-bearers, and I was told that my presence was instantly required at the palace. My alarm at so untimely a summons was dissipated by the arrival of Geronimo. ‘Fear nothing,’ he said: ‘the hour of happiness is at hand. He whom you hate is vanquished. Federico is his conqueror.’”
“I his conqueror!” cried the student. And then, recalling all that had occurred, “Strange destiny!” he continued. “Yes, I now see that the secret intrigues of a dangerous and powerful man have been revealed by my means. But who is he? I in vain conjecture.”
“You do not know him?” cried Rosaura, greatly astonished—“not know——?” She suddenly paused, for at that moment the door burst open, and the Queen entered the room, in extreme haste and violent agitation.
“His Majesty is recovered,” she exclaimed, her voice shrill and quivering with contending emotions; “his swoon is over, God’s grace be thanked. I have spoken, my noble friends, and not in vain. The King will himself hear the witnesses. These young people must come with me. Call Geronimo Regato. Remain here, Cambronero, and all of you: I must see you again, I need your counsel—desert me not!”
“When your Majesty next honours us with your presence,” said Cambronero, bowing low, and raising his voice, “it will be as Queen-Regent of Spain.”
Regato entered the room, and Federico rubbed his eyes in fresh astonishment. It was the same man in the dark mantle who had followed him from his dungeon to the Queen’s audience chamber, and whom he had taken for an executioner. Gradually the mysteries of the night unravelled themselves. He understood that if Regato had accused him, it had been to avert suspicion from himself, and that he might work more effectually for both, by revealing to the Queen or to Cambronero what he had learned from Federico, and by placing before them the list of the conspirators. Musing upon this, and each moment more convinced of Geronimo’s wisdom and good faith, he followed the Queen, who, with rapid step, led him and Rosaura through a suite of splendid apartments. Stopping before a door, she turned to the student.
“Speak fearlessly,” she said: “suppress no word of truth, and reckon on my favour and protection.”