“No, no,” said Wogan; “you do not follow me.  Charles Wogan will come to the gallows over this adventure.  For my part, I would have him broken on the wheel and tortured in many uncomfortable ways.  These Irishmen all the world over are pestilent fellows.  But the trouble is this:  If her Highness hears of his attempt, she is, as you sagely discovered, a woman, a trivial, trifling thing.  She will be absurd enough to imagine her rescue possible; she will again change her mind, and it is precisely that which General Heister fears.  He would have her formally betrothed to the Prince of Baden before Charles Wogan is caught and hanged sky-high.  Therefore, since I was pressing into Italy, he charged me with this message to the Prince of Baden.  Now observe this, if you please.  Suppose that I do not overtake the Prince; suppose that her Highness hears of Wogan’s coming and again changes her mind,—­who will be to blame?  Not I, for I have done my best, not Prince Taxis, for he is not informed, but Prince Taxis’s secretary.”

The secretary yielded to Wogan’s argument.  He might be in a great fear of Prince Taxis, but he was in a greater of the Emperor’s wrath.  He left Wogan again, and in a little while came back with the written permission which Wogan desired.  Wogan wasted no time in unnecessary civilities; the morning had already been wasted.  The clocks were striking one as he hurried away from the palace, and before two the Princess Clementina was able to throw back her cloak from about her face and take the air; for the berlin was on the road from Trent to Roveredo.

“Those were the four worst hours since we left Innspruck,” she said.  “I thought I should suffocate.”  The revulsion from despair, the knowledge that each beat of the hoofs brought them nearer to safety, the glow of the sun upon a country which was Italy in all but name, raised them all to the top of their spirits.  Clementina was in her gayest mood; she lavished caresses upon her “little woman,” as she called Mrs. Misset; she would have Wogan give her an account of his interview with Prince Taxis’s secretary; she laughed with the merriest enjoyment over his abuse of Charles Wogan.

“But it was not myself alone whom I slandered,” said he.  “Your Highness had a share of our abuse.  Our heads wagged gravely over woman’s inconstancies.  It was not in nature but you must change your mind.  Indeed, your Highness would have laughed.”

But at all events her Highness did not laugh now.  On the contrary, her eyes lost all their merriment, and her blood rushed hotly into her cheeks.  She became for that afternoon a creature of moods, now talking quickly and perhaps a trifle wildly, now relapsing into long silences.  Wogan was troubled by a thought that the strain of her journey was telling its tale even upon her vigorous youth.  It may be that she noted his look of anxiety, but she said to him abruptly and with a sort of rebellion,—­

“You would despise any woman who had the temerity to change her mind.”