‘Have you had food?’ said Vittoria.  ’I have some money that will serve for both of us three days.  Go, and eat and drink.  Pay for us both.’

She gave him her purse.  He received it with a grave servitorial bow, and retired.

Soon after the chasseur brought up a message.  Herr Johannes requested that he might have the honour of presenting his homage to her:  it was imperative that he should see her.  She nodded.  Her first glance at Herr Johannes assured her of his being one of the officers whom she had seen on the stage last night, and she prepared to act her part.  Herr Johannes desired her to recall to mind his introduction to her by the Signor Antonio-Pericles at the house of the maestro Rocco Ricci.  ’It is true; pardon me,’ said Vittoria.

He informed her that she had surpassed herself at the opera; so much so that he and many other Germans had been completely conquered by her.  Hearing, he said, that she was to be pursued, he took horse and galloped all night on the road toward Schloss Sonnenberg, whither, as it had been whispered to him, she was flying, in order to counsel her to lie ‘perdu’ for a short space, and subsequently to conduct her to the schloss of the amiable duchess.  Vittoria thanked him, but stated humbly that she preferred to travel alone.  He declared that it was impossible:  that she was precious to the world of Art, and must on no account be allowed to run into peril.  Vittoria tried to assert her will; she found it unstrung.  She thought besides that this disguised officer, with the ill-looking eyes running into one, might easily, since he had heard her, be a devotee of her voice; and it flattered her yet more to imagine him as a capture from the enemy—­a vanquished subservient Austrian.  She had seen him come on horseback; he had evidently followed her; and he knew what she now understood must be her destination.

Moreover, Laura had underlined ‘it is an Austrian who rescues you.’  This man perchance was the Austrian.  His precise manner of speech demanded an extreme repugnance, if it was to be resisted; Vittoria’s reliance upon her own natural fortitude was much too secure for her to encourage the physical revulsions which certain hard faces of men create in the hearts of young women.

‘Was all quiet in Milan?’ she asked.

‘Quiet as a pillow,’ he said.

‘And will continue to be?’

‘Not a doubt of it.’

‘Why is there not a doubt of it, signore?’

’You beat us Germans on one field.  On the other you have no chance.  But you must lose no time.  The Croats are on your track.  I have ordered out the carriage.’

The mention of the Croats struck her fugitive senses with a panic.

‘I must wait for my maid,’ she said, attempting to deliberate.

‘Ha! you have a maid:  of course you have!  Where is your maid?’

‘She ought to have returned by this time.  If not, she is on the road.’