"Spain breeds bold knights," she said, "but not so
many after all who are bold within! Not so many, I think,
as are found in Italy or in France." She paused a moment,
looking at the sky above the roofs, then came back to me.
"It is hopeless, and you must see it, to talk in those terms
to the only powers that can lead the Holy Office to forget
that you live! It is hopeless to talk to the Queen, telling
her that. She would hold that she had entertained heresy,
and her imagination would not let her alone. I see naught
in this world for you to do but to go out of it into another!
There are other lands--"
A damsel hurried to her from the door. "There's a stir
below, Madam! Something has brought the Queen home
earlier than we thought--"
The Marchioness de Moya rose. Don Enrique kissed her
hand, and Jayme de Marchena kissed it and thanked her. "I
would help if I could!" she said. "But in Spain to-day
it is deadly dangerous to talk or write as though there were
freedom!"
She passed from the gallery, Don Enrique and I following.
We came upon a landing with a great stair before us.
Quick as had been her maidens, they were not quick enough.
Many folk were coming up the broad steps. Dona Beatrix
glanced, then opened a door giving into a great room,
apparently empty. She pointed to an opposite door. "The
little stair! Go that way!" Don Enrique nodded comprehension.
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