back on Tuesday, and would doubtless receive him then, for they had
already asked about him several times. The young gentleman probably came
from some foreign country; it was the custom to wear hats in Madrid.

Ulrich now noticed what he lacked, but before leaving, to supply the
want, asked the porter, if he knew what had become of Master Moor.

Safe! He was safe! Several weeks before Donna Sophonisba had received a
letter sent from Flanders, and Ulrich's companion was well informed, for
his wife served the baroness as 'doncella'.

Joyously, almost beside himself with pure, heart-cheering delight, the
released prisoner hurried away, bought himself a new cap, and then sought
the Alcazar.

Before the treasury, in the place of old Santo, Carmen's father, stood a
tall, broad portero, still a young man, who rudely refused him
admittance.

"Master Moor has not been here for a long time," said the gate-keeper
angrily: "Artists don't wear ragged clothes, and if you don't wish to see
the inside of a guard-house--a place you are doubtless familiar with--you
had better leave at once."

Ulrich answered the gate-keeper's insulting taunts indignantly and
proudly, for he was no longer the yielding boy of former days, and the
quarrel soon became serious.

Just then a dainty little woman, neatly dressed for the evening
promenade, with the mantilla on her curls, a pomegranate blossom in her