"The General ordered it, your Highness," answered the man, respectfully.

"Request your captain to report to the General that I particularly
desire no sentinel at my door. I have no possessions to guard except my
reputation, and I can take care of that myself." He laughed
good-naturedly.

The corporal grinned--he was a very dark, broad-faced man, with high
cheek bones, and ears that stuck out. He faced about with his three
soldiers, and followed Don John to the terrace--but in the distance he
had seen the hooded figure of a woman.

Not knowing what to do, for she had heard the colloquy, Dolores stood
still a moment, for she did not care to pass the soldiers as they came
back. Then she turned and walked a little way in the other direction, to
gain time, and kept on slowly. In less than a minute they returned,
bringing the sentinel with them. She walked slowly and counted them as
they went past her--and then she started as if she had been stung, and
blushed scarlet under her hood, for she distinctly heard the big
corporal laugh to himself when he had gone by. She knew, then, how she
trusted the man she loved.

When the soldiers had turned the corner and were out of sight, she ran
back to the terrace and hid herself in the stone sentry-box just
outside, still blushing and angry. On the side of the box towards Don
John's apartment there was a small square window just at the height of
her eyes, and she looked through it, sure that her face could not be
seen from without. She looked from mere curiosity, to see what sort of
men the officers were, and Don John's servants; for everything connected