“Nay; I do not say that.”

“But it is merely politeness that restrains you.  You would despise her, judging her by men.  When a man changes his mind, why, it is so, he changes his mind.  But when a girl does, it may well be that for the first time she is seriously exercising her judgment.  For her upbringing renders it natural that she should allow others to make up her mind for her at the first.”

“That I think is very true,” said Wogan.

Clementina, however, was not satisfied with his assent.  She attacked him again and almost vindictively.

“You of course would never change your mind for any reason, once it was fixed.  You are resolute.  You are quite, quite perfect.”

Mr. Wogan could not imagine what he had done thus to provoke her irony.

“Madam,” he pleaded, “I am not in truth so obstinate a fellow as you make me out.  I have often changed my mind.  I take some pride in it on occasion.”

Her Highness inclined to a greater graciousness.

“I am glad to know it.  You shall give me examples.  One may have a stiff neck and yet no cause for pride.”

Wogan looked so woe-begone under this reproof that Clementina suddenly broke out into a laugh, and so showed herself in a fresh and more familiar mood.  The good-humour continued; she sat opposite to Mr. Wogan; if she moved, her hand, her knee, her foot, must needs touch his; she made him tell her stories of his campaigns; and so the evening came upon them,—­an evening of stars and mysterious quiet and a clear, dark sky.

They passed Roveredo; they drew near to Ala, the last village in the Emperor’s territories.  Five miles beyond Ala they would be on Venetian soil, and already they saw the lights of the village twinkling like so many golden candles.  But the berlin, which had drawn them so stoutly over these rugged mountain-roads, failed them at the last.  One of the hind wheels jolted violently upon a great stone, there was a sudden cracking of wood, and the carriage lurched over, throwing its occupants one against the other.

Wogan disentangled himself, opened the door, and sprang out.  He sprang out into a pool of water.  One glance at the carriage, dark though the night was, told him surely what had happened.  The axle-tree was broken.  He saw that Clementina was about to follow him.

“There is water,” said he.  “It is ankle-deep.”

“And no white stone,” she answered with a laugh, “whereon I can safely set my foot?”

“No,” said he, “but you can trust without fear to my arms;” and he reached them out to her.