chance with the sentry underneath.  He was caught in a trap, and Clementina waited for him in the avenue, under the fourth tree.  All was lost, it seemed, and by his own folly, his own confidence.  Had he only told her of the tavern under the city wall, where the carriage stood with its horses harnessed in the shafts, she might still have escaped, though he was trapped.  The sweat passed down his face.  Yet no swift step was taken, nor was the curtain torn aside.

For within the room the magistrate, a kindly citizen of Innspruck who had no liking for this addition to his duties, stood gazing at the Princess-mother with a respectful pity.  It was the sight of her tear-stained face which had checked his words.  For two days Clementina had kept her bed, and the mother’s tears alarmed him.

“Her Highness, your daughter, suffers so much?” said he.

“Sir, it is little to be wondered at.”

The magistrate bowed.  That question was not one with which he had a mind to meddle.

“She still lies in bed?” said he, and he crossed to the door.  The mother flung herself in the way.

“She lies in pain, and you would disturb her; you would flash your lanterns in her eyes, that if perchance she sleeps, she may wake into a world of pain.  Sir, you will not.”

“Your Highness—­”

“It is the mother who beseeches you.  Sir, would you have me on my knees?”

Wogan, but this moment recovered from his alarm, became again uneasy.  Her Highness protested too much; she played her part in the comedy too strenuously.  He judged by the ear; the magistrate had the quivering, terror-stricken face before his eyes, and his pity deepened.

“Your Highness,” he said, “I must pray you to let me pass.  I have General Heister’s orders to obey.”

The Princess-mother now gave Wogan reason to applaud her.  She saw that the magistrate, for all his politeness, was quite inflexible.

“Go, then,” she said with a quiet dignity which once before she had shown that evening.  “Since there is no humiliation to be spared us, take a candle, sir, and count the marks of suffering in my daughter’s face;” and with her own hand she opened the bedroom door and stood aside.

“Madam, I would not press my duty an inch beyond its limits,” said the magistrate.  “I will stand in the doorway, and do you bid your daughter speak.”

The Princess-mother did not move from her position.

“My child,” she said.

Jenny in the bedroom groaned and turned from one side to the other.

“You are in pain?”

Jenny groaned again.  The magistrate himself closed the door.

“Believe me,” said he, “no one could more regret than I the incivilities to which I am compelled.”

He crossed the room.  Wogan heard him and his men descending the stairs.  He heard the door open and shut; he heard Chateaudoux draw the bolts.  Then he stepped out from the curtain.