Clementina

  CHAPTER XIII

  Meanwhile within the room the Princess-mother clung to Clementina. Theterror which her sharp cry had expressed was visible in her strained andstartled face. Her eyes, bright with terror, stared at the drawncurtain; she could not avert them; she still must gaze, fascinated byher fears; and her dry, whispering lips were tremulous.

  "Heaven have mercy!" she whispered; "shut the window! Shut it fast!" andas Clementina moved in surprise, she clung the closer to her daughter."No, do not leave me! Come away! Jesu! here are we alone,--two women!"

  "Mother," said Clementina, soothing her and gently stroking her hair, asthough she in truth was the mother and the mother her daughter, "there'sno cause for fear."

  "No cause for fear! I saw him--the sentry--he is climbing up. Ah!" andagain her voice rose to a cry as Wogan's foot grated on thewindow-ledge.

  "Hush, mother! A cry will ruin us. It's not the sentinel," saidClementina.

  Clementina was laughing, and by her laughter the Princess-mother was insome measure reassured.

  "Who is it, then?" she asked.

  "Can you not guess?" said Clementina, incredulously. "It is so evident.Yet I would not have you guess. It is my secret, my discovery. I'll tellyou." She heard a man behind the curtain spring lightly from the windowto the floor. She raised her voice that he might know she had divinedhim. "Your sentinel is the one man who has the right to rescue me. Yoursentinel's the King."

  At that moment Wogan pushed aside the curtain.

  "No, your Highness," said he, "but the King's servant."

  The Princess-mother dropped into a chair and looked at her visitor withdespair. It was not the sentinel, to be sure, but, on the other hand, itwas Mr. Wogan, whom she knew for a very insistent man with a greatliking for his own way. She drew little comfort from Mr. Wogan's coming.

  It seemed, too, that he was not very welcome to Clementina; for she drewback a step and in a voice which dropped and had a tremble ofdisappointment, "Mr. Wogan," she said, "the King is well served;" andshe stood there without so much as offering him her hand. Wogan had notcounted on so cold a greeting, but he understood the reason, and was notsure but what he approved of it. After all, she had encountered perilson the King's account; she had some sort of a justification to believethe King would do the like for her. It had not occurred to him orindeed to anyone before; but now that he saw the chosen woman so plainlywounded, he felt a trifle hot against his King for having disappointedher. He set his wits to work to dispel the disappointment.

  "Your Highness, the truth is there are great matters brewing in Spain.His Majesty was needed there most urgently. He had to decide betweenInnspruck and Cadiz, and it seemed that he would honour your greatconfidence in him and at the same time serve you best--"

  Clementina would not allow him to complete the sentence. Her cheekflushed, and she said quickly,--

  "You are right, Mr. Wogan. The King is right. Mine was a girl's thought.I am ashamed of it;" and she frankly gave him her hand. Wogan was fairlywell pleased with his apology for his King. It was not quite the truth,no doubt, but it had spared Clementina a trifle of humiliation, and hadre-established the King in her thoughts. He bent over her hand and wouldhave kissed it, but she stopped him.

  "No," said she, "an honest handclasp, if you please; for no woman canhave ever lived who had a truer friend," and Wogan, looking into herfrank eyes, was not, after all, nearly so well pleased with the untruthhe had told her. She was an uncomfortable woman to go about with shiftsand contrivances. Her open face, with its broad forehead and the clear,steady eyes of darkest blue, claimed truth as a prerogative. The blushwhich had faded from her cheeks appeared on his, and he began to babblesome foolish word about his unworthiness when the Princess-motherinterrupted him in a grudging voice,--

  "Mr. Wogan, you were to bring a written authority from the Prince myhusband."

  Wogan drew himself up straight.

  "Your Highness," said he, with a bow of the utmost respect, "I was givensuch an authority."

  The Princess-mother held out her hand. "Will you give it me?"

  "I said that I was given such an authority. But I have it no longer. Iwas attacked on my way from Ohlau. There were five men against me, allof whom desired that letter. The room was small; I could not run away;neither had I much space wherein to resist five men. I knew that were Ikilled and that letter found on me, your Highness would thereafter betoo surely guarded to make escape possible, and his Highness PrinceSobieski would himself incur the Emperor's hostility. So when I had madesure that those five men were joined against me, I twisted that letterinto a taper and before their faces lit my pipe with it."

  Clementina's eyes were fixed steadily and intently upon Wogan's face.When he ended she drew a deep breath, but otherwise she did not move.The Princess-mother, however, was unmistakably relieved. She spoke witha kindliness she had never shown before to Wogan; she even smiled athim in a friendly way.

  "We do not doubt you, Mr. Wogan, but that written letter, giving mydaughter leave to go, I needs must have before I let her go. A father'sauthority! I cannot take that upon myself."

  Clementina took a quick step across to her mother's side.

  "You did not hear," she said.

  "I heard indeed that Mr. Wogan had burnt the letter."

  "But under what stress, and to spare my father and to leave me still agrain of hope. Mother, this gentleman has run great risks for me,--howgreat I did not know; even now in this one instance we can only guessand still fall short of the mark."

  The Princess-mother visibly stiffened with maternal authority.

  "My child, without some sure sign the Prince consents, you must not go."

  Clementina looked towards Wogan for assistance. Wogan put his hand intohis pocket.

  "That sure sign I have," said he. "It is a surer sign than any writtenletter; for handwriting may always be counterfeit. This could never be,"and he held out on the palm of his hand the turquoise snuff-box whichthe Prince had given him on New Year's day. "It is a jewel unique in allthe world, and the Prince gave it me. It is a jewel he treasured notonly for its value, but its history. Yet he gave it me. It was won bythe great King John of Poland, and remains as a memorial of the mostglorious day in all that warrior's glorious life; yet his son gave itme. With his own hands he put it into mine to prove to me with whatconfidence he trusted your Highness's daughter to my care. Thatconfidence was written large in the letter I burnt, but I am thinking itis engraved for ever upon this stone."

  The Princess-mother took the snuff-box reluctantly and turned it overand over. She was silent. Clementina answered for her.

  "I am ready," she said, and she pointed to a tiny bundle on a chair inwhich a few clothes were wrapped. "My jewels are packed in the bundle,but I can leave them behind me if needs be."

  Wogan lifted up the bundle and laughed.

  "Your Highness teaches a lesson to soldiers; for there is never aknapsack but can hold this and still have half its space to spare. Thefront door is unlatched?"

  "M. Chateaudoux is watching in the hall."

  "And the hall's unlighted?"

  "Yes."

  "Jenny should be here in a minute, and before she comes I must tell youshe does not know the importance of our undertaking. She is the servantto Mrs. Misset, who attends your Highness into Italy. We did not let herinto the secret. We made up a comedy in which you have your parts toplay. Your Highness," and he turned to Clementina, "is a rich Austrianheiress, deeply enamoured of Captain Lucius O'Toole."

  "Captain Lucius O'Toole!" exclaimed the mother, in horror. "My daughterenamoured of a Captain Lucius O'Toole!"

  "He is one of my three companions," said Wogan, imperturbably."Moreover, he is six foot four, the most creditable lover in the world."

  "Well," said Clementina, with a laugh, "I am deeply enamoured of theengaging Captain Lucius O'Toole. Go on, sir."

  "Your parents are of a most unexampled cruelty. They will not smile uponthe fascinating O'Toole, but have locked you u
p on bread and water untilyou shall agree to marry a wealthy but decrepit gentleman ofeighty-three."

  "I will not," cried Clementina; "I will starve myself to death first. Iwill marry my six feet four or no other man in Christendom."

  "Clementina!" cried her mother, deprecatingly.

  "But at this moment," continued Wogan, "there very properly appears thefairy godmother in the person of a romantical maiden aunt."

  "Oh!" said Clementina, "I have a romantical maiden aunt."

  "Yes," said Wogan, and turning with a bow to the Princess-mother; "yourHighness."

  "I?" she exclaimed, starting up in her chair.

  "Your Highness has written an encouraging letter to Captain O'Toole,"resumed Wogan. The Princess-mother gasped, "A letter to CaptainO'Toole," and she flung up her hands and fell back in her chair.

  "On the receipt of the letter Captain O'Toole gathers his friends,borrows a horse here, a carriage there, and a hundred guineas fromHeaven knows whom, comes to the rescue like a knight-errant, and retellsthe old story of how love laughs at locksmiths."

  As Wogan ended, the mother rose from her chair. It may have been thatshe revolted at the part she was to play; it may have been because afiercer gust shook the curtain and bellied it inwards. At all events sheflung the curtain aside; the snow drifted through the open window ontothe floor; outside the open window it was falling like a cascade, andthe air was icy.

  "Mr. Wogan," she said, stubbornly working herself into a heat to makemore sure of her resolution, "my daughter cannot go to-night. To-morrow,if the sky clears, yes, but to-night, no. You do not know, sir, being aman. But my daughter has fasted through this Lent, and that leaves awoman weak. I do forbid her going, as her father would. The very dogsrunning the streets for food keep kennel on such a night. She must notgo."

  Wogan did not give way, though he felt a qualm of despair, knowing allthe stubbornness of which the weak are capable, knowing how imperviousto facts or arguments.

  "Your Highness," he said quickly, "we are not birds of passage to ruleour flight by seasons. We must take the moment when it comes, and itcomes now. To-night your daughter can escape; for here's a night madefor an escape."

  "And for my part," cried Clementina, "I would the snow fell faster." Shecrossed to the open window and held out her hands to catch the flakes."Would they did not melt! I believe Heaven sends the snow to shelter me.It's the white canopy spread above my head, that I may go in state tomeet my King." She stood eager and exultant, her eyes shining, her cheekon fire, her voice thrilling with pride. She seemed not to feel thecold. She welcomed the hardships of wind and falling snow as heropportunity. She desired not only for escape, but also to endure.

  Wogan looked her over from head to foot, filled with pride andadmiration. He had made no mistake; he had plucked this rose of theworld to give to his King. His eyes said it; and the girl, reading them,drew a breath and rippled out a laugh of gladness that his trustedservant was so well content with her. But the Princess-mother stoodunmoved.

  "My daughter cannot go to-night," she repeated resentfully. "I do forbidit."

  Wogan had his one argument. This one argument was his last resource. Hehad chosen it carefully with an eye to the woman whom it was topersuade. It was not couched as an inducement; it did not claim thedischarge of an obligation; it was not a reply to any definiteobjection. Such arguments would only have confirmed her in herstubbornness. He made accordingly an appeal to sentiment.

  "Your Highness's daughter," said he, "spoke a minute since of thehazards my friends and I have run to compass her escape. As regards fourof us, the words reached beyond our deserts. For we are men. Suchhazards are our portion; they are seldom lightened by so high an aim.But the fifth! The words, however kind, were still below that fifthone's merits; for the fifth is a woman."

  "I know. With all my heart I thank her. With all my heart I pity her."

  "But there is one thing your Highness does not know. She runs ourrisks,--the risk of capture, the risk of the night, the storm, the snow,she a woman by nature timid and frail,--yet with never in all her lifeso great a reason for timidity, or so much frailty of health as now. Weventure our lives, but she ventures more."

  The mother bowed her head; Clementina looked fixedly at Wogan.

  "Speak plainly, my friend," she said. "There are no children here."

  "Madam, I need but quote to you the words her husband used. For my part,I think that nobler words were never spoken, and with her whole heartshe repeats them. They are these: 'The boy would only live to serve hisKing; why should he not serve his King before he lives?'"

  The mother was still silent, but Wogan could see that the tearsoverbrimmed her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. Clementina was silentfor a while too, and stood with her eyes fixed thoughtfully on Wogan.Then she said gently,--

  "Her name."

  Wogan told her it, and she said no more; but it was plain that she wouldnever forget it, that she had written it upon her heart.

  Wogan waited, looking to the Princess, who drying her tears rose fromher chair and said with great and unexpected dignity,--

  "How comes it, sir, that with such servants your King still does not situpon his throne? My daughter shall not fall below the great example setto her. My fears are shamed by it. My daughter goes with you to-night."

  It was time that she consented, for even as Wogan flung himself upon hisknee and raised her hand, M. Chateaudoux appeared at the door with afinger on his lips, and behind him one could hear a voice grumbling andcursing on the stairs.

  "Jenny," said Wogan, and Jenny stumbled into the room. "Quiet," said he;"you will wake the house."

  "Well, if you had to walk upstairs in the dark in these horribleshoes--"

  "Oh, Jenny, your cloak, quick!"

  "Take the thing! A good riddance to it; it's dripping wet, and weighs aton."

  "Dripping wet!" moaned the mother.

  "I shall not wear it long," said Clementina, advancing from theembrasure of the window. Jenny turned and looked her over criticallyfrom head to foot. Then she turned away without a word and let the cloakfall to the ground. It fell about her feet; she kicked it viciouslyaway, and at the same time she kicked off one of those shoes of whichshe so much complained. Jenny was never the woman to mince her language,and to-night she was in her surliest mood. So she swore simply andheartily, to the mother's utter astonishment and indignation.

  "Damn!" she said, hobbling across the room to the corner, whither hershoe had fallen. "There, there, old lady; don't hold your hands to yourears as though a clean oath would poison them!"

  The Princess-mother fell back in her chair.

  "Does she speak to me?" she asked helplessly.

  "Yes," said Wogan; and turning to Jenny, "This is the kind-heartedaunt."

  Jenny turned to Clementina, who was picking the cloak from the floor.

  "And you are the beautiful heiress," she said sourly. "Well, if you aregoing to put that wet cloak on your shoulders, I wish you joy of thefirst kiss O'Toole gives you when you jump into his arms."

  The Princess-mother screamed; Wogan hastened to interfere.

  "Jenny, there's the bedroom; to bed with you!" and he took out hiswatch. At once he uttered an exclamation of affright. Wogan hadmiscalculated the time which he would require. It had taken longer thanhe had anticipated to reach the villa against the storm; his conflictwith Jenny in the portico had consumed valuable minutes; he had been atsome pains to over-persuade the Princess-mother; Jenny herself amongstthe trees in the darkness had waited more than the quarter of an hourdemanded of her; Wogan himself, absorbed each moment in that moment'sparticular business,--now bending all his wits to vanquish Jenny, now tovanquish the Princess-mother,--even Wogan had neglected how the timesped. He looked at his watch. It was twenty-five minutes to ten, and atten the magistrate would be knocking at the door.

  "I am ready," said Clementina, drawing the wet cloak about her shouldersand its hood over her head. She barely shivered under its wet heaviness.
br />   "There's one more thing to be done before you go," said Wogan; butbefore he could say what that one thing was, Jenny, who had nowrecovered her shoe, ran across the room and took the beautiful heiressby both hands. Jenny was impulsive by nature. The Princess-mother'sdistress and Clementina's fearlessness made her suddenly ashamed thatshe had spoken so sourly.

  "There, there, old lady," she said soothingly; "don't you fret. They arevery good friends your niece is going with." Then she drew Clementinaclose to her. "I don't wonder they are all mad about you, for I can'tbut say you are very handsome and richly worth the pains you haveoccasioned us." She kissed Clementina plump upon the cheek andwhispered in her ear, "O'Toole won't mind the wet cloak, my dear, whenhe sees you."

  Clementina laughed happily and returned her kiss with no less sincerity,if with less noise.

  "Quick, Jenny," said Wogan, "to bed with you!"

  He pointed to the door which led to the Princess's bedroom.

  "Now you must write a letter," he added to Clementina, in a low voice,as soon as the door was shut upon Jenny. "A letter to your mother,relieving her of all complicity in your escape. Her Highness will findit to-morrow night slipped under the cover of her toilette."

  Clementina ran to a table, and taking up a pen, "You think ofeverything," she said. "Perhaps you have written the letter."

  Wogan pulled a sheet of paper from his fob.

  "I scribbled down a few dutiful sentiments," said he, "as we drove downfrom Nazareth, thinking it might save time."

  "Mother," exclaimed Clementina, "not content with contriving my escape,he will write my letters to you. Well, sir, let us hear what you havemade of it."

  Wogan dictated a most beautiful letter, in which a mother's claims forobedience were strongly set out--as a justification, one must suppose,for a daughter's disobedience. But Clementina was betrothed to hisMajesty King James, and that engagement must be ever the highestconsideration with her, on pain of forfeiting her honour. It wasaltogether a noble and stately letter, written in formal, irreproachablephrases which no daughter in the world would ever have written to amother. Clementina laughed over it, but said that it would serve. Woganlooked at his watch again. It was then a quarter to ten.

  "Quick!" said he. "Your Highness will wait for me under the fourth treeof the avenue, counting from the end."

  He left the mother and daughter alone, that his presence might not checkthe tenderness of their farewell, and went down the stairs into the darkhall. M. Chateaudoux was waiting there, with his teeth chattering in theextremity of his alarm. Wogan unlatched the door very carefully and sawthrough the chink the sentry standing by the steps. The snow still fell;he was glad to note the only light was a white glimmering from the wasteof snow upon the ground.

  "You must go out with her," Wogan whispered to Chateaudoux, "and speak aword to the sentry."

  "At any moment the magistrate may come," said Chateaudoux, though hetrembled so that he could hardly speak.

  "All the more reason for the sentinel to let your sweetheart run home ather quickest step," said Wogan, and above him he heard Clementina comeout upon the landing. He crept up the stairs to her.

  "Here is my hand," said he, in a low voice. She laid her own in his,and bending towards him in the darkness she whispered,--

  "Promise me it shall always be at my service. I shall need friends. I amyoung, and I have no knowledge. Promise me!"

  She was young indeed. The freshness of her voice, its little tremble ofmodesty, the earnestness of its appeal, carried her youth quite home toMr. Wogan's heart. She was sweet with youth. Wogan felt it more clearlyas they stood together in the darkness than when he had seen her plainlyin the lighted room, with youth mantling her cheeks and visible in thebuoyancy of her walk. Then she had been always the chosen woman. Wogancould just see her eyes, steady and mysteriously dark, shining at himout of the gloom, and a pang of remorse suddenly struck through him.That one step she was to take was across the threshold of a prison, itwas true, but a prison familiar and warm, and into a night of storm anddarkness and ice. The road lay before her into Italy, but it was a roadof unknown perils, through mountains deep in snow. And this escape ofto-night from the villa, this thunderous flight, with its hardships andits dangers, which followed the escape, was only the symbol of her life.She stepped from the shelter of her girlhood, as she stepped across thethreshold of the villa, into a womanhood dark with many trials,storm-swept and wandering. She might reach the queendom which was herdue, as the berlin in which she was to travel might--nay, surelywould--rush one day from the gorges into the plains and the sunlight ofItaly; but had Wogan travelled to Rome in Gaydon's place and talked withWhittington outside the Caprara Palace, it is very likely that she wouldnever have been allowed by him to start. Up till now he had thought onlyof her splendid courage, of the humiliation of her capture, of herwounded pride; she was the chosen woman. Now he thought of the girl, andwondered of her destiny, and was stricken with remorse.

  "Promise me," she repeated, and her hand tightened upon his and clung toit. Wogan had no fine sentiments wherewith to answer her; but his voicetook a depth of sincerity and tenderness quite strange to her. Herfingers ceased to tremble.

  They went down into the hall. Chateaudoux, who had been waiting in anagony of impatience, opened the door and slipped out; Clementinafollowed him.

  The door was left ajar behind them, and Wogan in the hall sawChateaudoux speak with the sentinel, saw the sentinel run hurriedly toClementina, saw Clementina disappear into the snow. Chateaudoux ran backinto the hall.

  "And you!" he asked, as he barred and locked the door. "The magistrateis coming. I saw the lights of the guard across the avenue."

  Clementina was outside in the storm; Wogan was within the house, and thelights of the guard were already near.

  "I go by the way I came," said he; "I have time;" and he ran quickly upthe stairs. In the room he found the Princess-mother weeping silently,and again, as he saw this weak elderly woman left alone to her fears andforebodings, remorse took hold on him.

  "Courage, madam," said he, as he crossed the room; "she goes to wed aking."

  "Sir, I am her mother," replied the Princess, gaining at this moment asuitable dignity from her tears. "I was wondering not of the King, butof the man the King conceals."

  "You need not, madam," said Wogan, who had no time for eulogies upon hismaster. "Take his servant's loyalty as the measure of his merits."

  He looked out of the window and suddenly drew back. He stood for amoment with a look of great fear upon his face. For the sentinel wasback at his post; Wogan dared not at this moment risk a struggle, andperhaps an outcry. Clementina was waiting under the avenue of trees;Wogan was within the house, and the lights of the guard were alreadyflaring in the roadway. Even as Wogan stood in the embrasure of thewindow, he heard a heavy knocking on the door.