So far this man whom he abhorred--whom he recognized as the intruder of the night before--for this man the very marriage was stayed, and he, the grandee, left his hall for his ramparts. And soon there was heard the clicking of the lowering portcullis, and the raising of the drawbridge. As he left the great hall the gentlemen followed him; and the only man left in the room was the false pilgrim, standing in the midst of the frightened women. Their chief, the Donna Elvira, motioned them away, and soon she stood alone with the robber. “Ernani--Ernani--they told me thou wert dead!” “And thou didst believe them.” “Yet I hoped--I would have hoped even to the altar.” “And then--then thou wouldst have sworn to love Don Ruy.” For all answer she showed him the dagger she had wrested from the king. So, she would have hoped till living death were forced upon her, and then she would have welcomed death itself. “The king--the king!” Again the cry was heard, “The king was at the gate.” The king demanded that it should bow to him, and again the clicking sound was heard as the bridge was lowered before the king. But ere the king reached the great hall, the lady and the robber had left it. The don returning, discovered them together. Again, despairingly, the robber offered his life, but the don was inflexible; hospitality he had promised, and hospitality he would grant. True, the very necessity of this hospitality would nerve his hand to greater vengeance when the time came. But now his guest’s life was as his own; so the trembling Elvira saw the don open a secret sliding door, and her lover was safe. “Begone to thy rooms, Elvira--the king--the king.” No second bidding needed she. And when Carlos came proudly into the great hall he found there only the grandee, humbly bowing. “Fair cousin, why in arms, we are not at war? You bow--enough. Let it be known there is but one king of Castille. When his sword is in its sheath all swords must sleep.” “Your Majesty can never think a Silva dreams rebellion.” “Prove yourself loyal. The chief of the rebels has sought refuge here in your castle. His men destroyed, he seeks to save himself by your protection. Deliver him!” “If the king will hear his subject. A pilgrim came and entreated hospitality, which I promised. The loyalty I bear the king will not allow me to betray his subject.” “Thou wouldst lose thy head, fair cousin.” “Rather than mine honor.” The king turned and gave some orders to the gentlemen about him. Then again his eyes were upon the door. “Thy head or his, my lord?” “Mine own.” Yet a little, and the gentlemen of the king’s suite returned, saying the royal troops had searched the castle through and could not find the rebel. “Thy head, I say.” But as he spoke, the king’s eyes turned from the grandee, and rested upon the Donna Elvira, coming towards him with hands clasped, and white open lips. “Mercy--mercy--king!”