‘They cannot see in,’ he said, ‘the building is too high. And across the Plaza there is nothing but the Cathedral, which has no windows accessible without ladders.’
‘They are in doubt,’ he said, speaking to Conyngham. ‘They are not sure that the Queen is here. We will keep them in doubt for a short time. Every minute lost by them is an inestimable gain to us. That open window will whet their curiosity, and give them something to whisper about. It is so easy to deceive a crowd.’
He sat down and began to peel a peach. Julia looked at him, wondering wherein this man’s greatness lay, and yet perceiving dimly that, against such as he, men like Esteban Larralde could do nothing.
Concha, having supped satisfactorily, was now sitting back in his chair seeking for something in the pockets of his cassock.
‘It is to be presumed,’ he said, ‘that one may smoke—even in a palace.’
And under their gaze he quietly lighted a cigarette with the deliberation of one in whom a long and solitary life had bred habits only to be broken at last by death.
Presently the General rose and went to the window again.
‘They are still doubtful,’ he said, returning, ‘and I think their numbers have decreased. We cannot allow them to disperse.’
‘My child,’ he said suddenly to Estella, ‘you must show yourself on the balcony.’
Estella rose at once; but Julia held her back.
‘No,’ she said; ‘let me do it. Give me the white mantilla.’
There was a momentary silence while Estella freed herself from her cousin’s grasp. Conyngham looked at the woman he loved while she stood, little more than a child, with something youthful and inimitably graceful in the lines of her throat and averted face. Would she accept Julia’s offer? Conyngham bit his lip and awaited her decision. Then, as if divining his thought, she turned and looked at him gravely.
She went towards the window. Her father and Conyngham had taken their places, one on each side, as if she were the Queen indeed. She stood for a moment on the threshold, and then passed out into the moonlight, alone. Immediately there arose the most terrifying of all earthly sounds—the dull, antagonistic roar of a thousand angry throats. Estella walked to the front of the balcony and stood, with an intrepidity which was worthy of the royal woman whose part she played, looking down on the upturned faces. A red flash streaked the darkness of a far corner of the square, and a bullet whistled through the open window into the woodwork of a mirror.