“Tell me,” says Claire, in her eagerness placing her hand upon his arm, “does Don Fadique ride with his brother, Don Enrique, against the king? Will he join in the siege of Toledo?”
“Noble _demoiselle_, whom I account French from her accent,” answers Don Alvarez, again bowing low, a great admiration breaking into his face as his eyes wander over Claire’s tall and supple form, “your zeal for your royal mistress touches me to the soul. But, by my faith, I do not know where the Grand Master is; but if I did, it is not my place to tell.”
“Oh, say not so, Sir Governor,” answers Claire, “you are our only friend. We are of all ladies the most dejected. Do not treat us prisoners who as have done ill, but as innocent sufferers consigned to your care.”
“Such is my conviction, fair lady,” is Don Alvarez’s answer, “but prisoners you are. In all that I can, count on me as your slave. Will it please your Grace"--addressing Blanche--“to pass up to the second storey, and view the apartments which have been prepared for you?”
With a deep sigh, Blanche followed him. Her arms fell to her side. To be so near rescue, yet bound within these walls!
As to Claire, the affairs of state did not affect her at all. She was fully occupied in considering what advantage she could take of the evident admiration of the governor.
Discreet as he meant to be, he could not control his eyes; one look had betrayed him to the astute pupil of the nuns, whose zeal for Blanche wanted no stimulating.
“I will make the governor love me, and free the queen,” was her thought, and as, step by step, she followed Blanche up the stairs, passing by narrow lancet windows that let in the light, the whole project simplified itself so marvellously in her brain that already they were careering forth upon the plains on two fleet Spanish barbs, accompanied by Don Alvarez, to the outposts of Don Enrique de Trastamare.
[Illustration: Patio de los Leones, the Court of the Lions, Alhambra.]
The inner _patio_, on the left hand, as you enter the Alcazar, where trees of magnolia and pomegranate wave together among hedges of red roses, has always been called the _Patio de Maria Padilla_.
It is known that her royal lover raised rooms on the flat, Moorish roof, and decorated them magnificently for her use.