|• Main||• Contacts|
"What is it now, Inez?" he asked, noting her changed face.
"Senor Pedro, you spoke to me a while ago, when you woke up from your
long sleep, of a certain Margaret, did you not? Well, I have been
inquiring of this Dona Margaret, and have no good news to tell of her."
Peter set his teeth, and said:
"Go on, tell me the worst."
"This Margaret was travelling with the Marquis of Morella, was she
"She had been stolen by him," answered Peter.
"Alas! it may be so; but here in Spain, and especially here in Granada,
that will scarcely screen the name of one who has been known to travel
with the Marquis of Morella."
"So much the worse for the Marquis of Morella when I meet him again,"
answered Peter sternly. "What is your story, Nurse Inez?"
She looked with interest at his grim, thin face, but, as it seemed to
him, with no displeasure.
"A sad one. As I have told you, a sad one. It seems that the other day
this senora was found dead at the foot of the tallest tower of the
marquis's palace, though whether she fell from it, or was thrown from
it, none know."
Peter gasped, and was silent for a while; then asked:
"Did you see her dead?"
"No, Senor; others saw her."
"And told you to tell me? Nurse Inez, I do not believe your tale. If the
Dona Margaret, my betrothed, were dead I should know it; but my heart
tells me that she is alive."
"You have great faith, Senor," said the woman, with a note of admiration
in her voice which she could not suppress, but, as he observed, without
"I have faith," he answered. "Nothing else is left; but so far it has
been a good crutch."
Peter made no further allusion to the subject, only presently he asked:
"Tell me, where am I?"
"In a prison, Senor."
"Oh! a prison, with a beautiful woman for jailer, and other beautiful
women"--and he pointed to a fair creature who had brought something into
the room--"as servants. A very fine prison also," and he looked about
him at the marbles and arches and lovely carving.
"There are men without the gate, not women," she replied, smiling.
"I daresay; captives can be tied with ropes of silk, can they not? Well,
whose is this prison?"
She shook her head.
"I do not know, Senor. The Moorish king's perhaps--you yourself have
said that I am only the jailer."
"Then who pays you?"
"Perhaps I am not paid, Senor; perhaps I work for love," and she glanced
Page 5 from 9: Back 1 2 3 4  6 7 8 9 Forward