Wilfrid readily leaped to her conclusion.  He offered his opera-hat and civil mantle to Radocky, who departed in them, leaving his military cloak in exchange.  During breathless seconds the lady hung kneeling at the window.  When the gate opened there was a noise as of feet preparing to rush; Weisspriess uttered an astonished cry, but addressed Radocky as “my Pierson!” lustily and frequently; and was heard putting a number of meaningless questions, laughing and rallying Pierson till the two passed out of hearing unmolested.  The lady then kissed a Cross passionately, and shivered Wilfrid’s manhood by asking him whether he knew what love was.  She went on: 

“Never, never love a married woman!  It’s a past practice.  Never!  Thrust a spike in the palm of your hands drink scalding oil, rather than do that.”

“The Prince Radocky is now safe,” Wilfrid said.

“Yes, he is safe; and he is there, and I am here:  and I cannot follow him; and when will he come to me?”

The tones were lamentable.  She struck her forehead, after she had mutely thrust her hand to right and left to show the space separating her from her lover.

Her voice changed when she accepted Wilfrid’s adieux, to whose fate in the deadly street she appeared quite indifferent, though she gave him one or two prudent directions, and expressed a hope that she might be of service to him.

He was set upon as soon as he emerged from the gateway; the cavalry cloak was torn from his back, and but for the chance circumstance of his swearing in English, he would have come to harm.  A chill went through his blood on hearing one of his assailants speak the name of Barto Rizzo.  The English oath stopped an arm that flashed a dagger half its length.  Wilfrid obeyed a command to declare his name, his country, and his rank.  “It’s not the prince! it’s not the Hungarian!” went many whispers; and he was drawn away by a man who requested him to deliver his reasons for entering the palace, and who appeared satisfied by Wilfrid’s ready mixture of invention and fact.  But the cloak!  Wilfrid stated boldly that the cloak was taken by him from the Duchess of Graatli’s at Como; that he had seen a tall Hussar officer slip it off his shoulders; that he had wanted a cloak, and had appropriated it.  He had entered the gate of the palace because of a woman’s hand that plucked at the skirts of this very cloak.

“I saw you enter,” said the man; “do that no more.  We will not have the blood of Italy contaminated—­do you hear?  While that half-Austrian Medole is tip-toeing ’twixt Milan and Turin, we watch over his honour, to set an example to our women and your officers.  You have outwitted us to-night.  Off with you!”

Wilfrid was twirled and pushed through the crowd till he got free of them.  He understood very well that they were magnanimous rascals who could let an accomplice go, though they would have driven steel into the principal.