CHAPTER XXIV
Maria Vittoria received the name of her visitor with a profoundastonishment. Then she stamped her foot and said violently, "Send himaway! I hate him." But curiosity got the better of her hate. She felt astrong desire to see the meddlesome man who had thrust himself betweenher and her lover; and before her woman had got so far as the door, shesaid, "Let him up to me!" She was again surprised when Wogan wasadmitted, for she expected a stout and burly soldier, stupid andconfident, of the type which blunders into success through sheerignorance of the probabilities of defeat. Mr. Wogan, for his part, sawthe glowing original of the picture at Bologna, but armed at all pointswith hostility.
"Your business," said she, curtly. Wogan no less curtly replied that hehad a wish to escort Mlle. de Caprara to Bologna. He spoke as though hewas suggesting a walk on the Campagna.
"And why should I travel to Bologna?" she asked. Wogan explained. Theexplanation required delicacy, but he put it in as few words as mightbe. There were slanderers at work. Her Highness the Princess Clementinawas in great distress; a word from Mlle. de Caprara would make allclear.
"Why should I trouble because the Princess Clementina has a crumpledrose-leaf in her bed? I will not go," said Mlle. de Caprara.
"Yet her Highness may justly ask why the King lingers in Spain." Wogansaw a look, a smile of triumph, brighten for an instant on the angryface.
"It is no doubt a humiliation to the Princess Clementina," said MariaVittoria, with a great deal of satisfaction. "But she must learn to bearhumiliation like other women."
"But she will reject the marriage," urged Wogan.
"The fool!" cried Maria Vittoria, and she laughed almost gaily. "I willnot budge an inch to persuade her to it. Let her fancy what she will andweep over it! I hate her; therefore she is out of my thought."
Wogan was not blind to the inspiriting effect of his argument upon MariaVittoria. He had, however, foreseen it, and he continuedimperturbably,--
"No doubt you think me something of a fool, too, to advance so unlikelya plea. But if her Highness rejects the marriage, who suffers? HerHighness's name is already widely praised for her endurance, herconstancy. If, after all, at the last moment she scornfully rejects thatfor which she has so stoutly ventured, whose name, whose cause, willsuffer most? It will be one more misfortune, one more disaster, to addto the crushing weight under which the King labours. There will beignominy; who will be dwarfed by it? There will be laughter; whom willit souse? There will be scandal; who will be splashed by it? ThePrincess or the King?"
Maria Vittoria stood with her brows drawn together in a frown. "I willnot go," she said after a pause. "Never was there so presumptuous arequest. No, I will not."
Wogan made his bow and retired. But he was at the Caprara Palace againin the morning, and again he was admitted. He noticed without regretthat Maria Vittoria bore the traces of a restless night.
"What should I say if I went with you?" she asked.
"You would say why the King lingers in Spain."
Maria Vittoria gave a startled look at Wogan.
"Do you know why?"
"You told me yesterday."
"Not in words."
"There are other ways of speech."
That one smile of triumph had assured Wogan that the King's delay washer doing and a condition of their parting.
"How will my story, though I told it, help?" asked Mlle. de Caprara.Wogan had no doubts upon that score. The story of the Chevalier andMaria Vittoria had a strong parallel in Clementina's own history.Circumstance and duty held them apart, as it held apart Clementina andWogan himself. In hearing Maria Vittoria's story, Clementina would hearher own; she must be moved to sympathy with it; she would regard withher own generous eyes those who played unhappy parts in itsdevelopment; she could have no word of censure, no opportunity forscorn.
"Tell the story," said Wogan. "I will warrant the result."
"No, I will not go," said she; and again Wogan left the house. And againhe came the next morning.
"Why should I go?" said Maria Vittoria, rebelliously. "Say what you havesaid to me to her! Speak to her of the ignominy which will befall theKing! Tell her how his cause will totter! Why talk of this to me? If sheloves the King, your words will persuade her. For on my life they havenearly persuaded me."
"If she loves the King!" said Wogan, quietly, and Maria Vittoria staredat him. There was something she had not conjectured before.
"Oh, she does not love him!" she said in wonderment. Her wondermentswiftly changed to contempt. "The fool! Let her go on her knees and prayfor a modest heart. There's my message to her. Who is she that sheshould not love him?" But it nevertheless altered a trifle pleasurablyMaria Vittoria's view of the position. It was pain to her to contemplatethe Chevalier's marriage, a deep, gnawing, rancorous pain, but the painwas less, once she could believe he was to marry a woman who did notlove him. She despised the woman for her stupidity; none the less, thatwas the wife she would choose, if she must needs choose another thanherself. "I have a mind to see this fool-woman of yours," she saiddoubtfully. "Why does she not love the King?"
Wogan could have answered that she had never seen him. He thoughtsilence, however, was the more expressive. The silence led MariaVittoria to conjecture.
"Is there another picture at her heart?" she asked, and again Wogan wassilent. "Whose, then? You will not tell me."
It might have been something in Wogan's attitude or face which revealedthe truth to her; it might have been her recollection of what the Kinghad said concerning Wogan's enthusiasm; it might have been merely herwoman's instinct. But she started and took a step towards Wogan. Hereyes certainly softened. "I will go with you to Bologna," she said; andthat afternoon with the smallest equipment she started from Rome. Woganhad ridden alone from Bologna to Rome in four days; he had spent threedays in Rome; he now took six days to return in company with Mlle. deCaprara and her few servants. He thus arrived in Bologna on the eve ofthat day when he was to act as the King's proxy in the marriage.
It was about four o'clock in the afternoon when the tiny cavalcadeclattered through the Porta Castiglione. Wogan led the way to thePilgrim Inn, where he left Maria Vittoria, saying that he would returnat nightfall. He then went on foot to O'Toole's lodging. O'Toole,however, had no news for him.
"There has been no mysterious visitor," said he.
"There will be one to-night," answered Wogan. "I shall need you."
"I am ready," said O'Toole.
The two friends walked back to the Pilgrim Inn. They were joined byMaria Vittoria, and they then proceeded to the little house among thetrees. Outside the door in the garden wall Wogan posted O'Toole.
"Let no one pass," said he, "till we return."
He knocked on the door, and after a little delay--for the night hadfallen, and there was no longer a porter at the gate--a little hatch wasopened, and a servant inquired his business.
"I come with a message of the utmost importance," said Wogan. "I beg youto inform her Highness that the Chevalier Wogan prays for two words withher."
The hatch was closed, and the servant's footsteps were heard to retreat.Wogan's anxieties had been increasing with every mile of that homewardjourney. On his ride to Rome he had been sensible of but oneobstacle,--the difficulty of persuading the real Vittoria to return withhim. But once that had been removed, others sprang to view, and eachhour enlarged them. There was but this one night, this one interview!Upon the upshot of it depended whether a woman, destined by nature for aqueen, should set her foot upon the throne-steps, whether a cause shouldsuffer its worst of many eclipses, whether Europe should laugh orapplaud. These five minutes while he waited outside the door threw himinto a fever. "You will be friendly," he implored Mlle. de Caprara. "Oh,you cannot but be! She must marry the King. I plead for him, not theleast bit in the world for her. For his sake she must complete the workshe has begun. She is not obstinate; she has her pride as a womanshould. You will tell her just the truth,--of the King's loyalty andyours. Heart
s cannot be commanded. Alas, mademoiselle, it is a hardworld at the end of it. It is mortised with the blood of broken hearts.But duty, mademoiselle, duty, a consciousness of rectitude,--these arevery noble qualities. It will be a high consolation, mademoiselle, oneof these days, when the King sits upon his throne in England, to thinkthat your self-sacrifice had set him there." And Mr. Wogan hopped like abear on hot bricks, twittering irreproachable sentiments until thegarden door was opened.
Beyond the door stretched a level space of grass intersected by a gravelpath. Along this path the servant led Wogan and his companion into thehouse. There were lights in the windows on the upper floor, and a smalllamp illuminated the hall. But the lower rooms were dark. The servantmounted the stairs, and opening the door of a little library, announcedthe Chevalier Wogan. Wogan led his companion in by the hand.
"Your Highness," said he, "I have the honour to present to you thePrincess Maria Vittoria Caprara." He left the two women standingopposite to and measuring each other silently; he closed the door andwent down stairs into the hall. A door in the hall opened on to a smallparlour, with windows giving on to the garden. There once before LadyFeatherstone and Harry Whittington had spoken of Wogan's love for thePrincess Clementina and speculated upon its consequences. Now Wogan satthere alone in the dark, listening to the women's voices overhead. Hehad come to the end of his efforts and could only wait. At all events,the women were talking, that was something; if he could only hear themweeping! The sound of tears would have been very comforting to Wogan atthat moment, but he only heard the low voices talking, talking. Heassured himself over and over again that this meeting could not fail ofits due result. That Maria Vittoria had exacted some promise which heldhis King in Spain he was now aware. She would say what that promise was,the condition of their parting. She had come prepared to say it--and thethread of Wogan's reasonings was abruptly cut. It seemed to him that heheard something more than the night breeze through the trees,--a soundof feet upon the gravel path, a whispering of voices.
The windows were closed, but not shuttered. Wogan pressed his eyes tothe pane and looked out. The night was dark, and the sky overclouded.But he had been sitting for some minutes in the darkness, and his eyeswere able to prove that his ears had not deceived him. For he saw thedim figures of two men standing on the lawn before the window. Theyappeared to be looking at the lighted windows on the upper floor, thenone of them waved to his companion to stand still, and himself walkedtowards the door. Wogan noticed that he made no attempt at secrecy; hewalked with a firm tread, careless whether he set his foot on gravel oron grass. As this man approached the door, Wogan slipped into the halland opened it. But he blocked the doorway, wondering whether these menhad climbed the wall or whether O'Toole had deserted his post.
O'Toole had not deserted his post, but he had none the less admittedthese two men. For Wogan and Maria Vittoria had barely been ten minuteswithin the house when O'Toole heard the sound of horses' hoofs in theentrance of the alley. They stopped just within the entrance. O'Tooledistinguished three horses, he saw the three riders dismount; and whileone of the three held the horses, the other two walked on foot towardsthe postern-door.
O'Toole eased his sword in its scabbard.
"The little fellows thought to catch Charles Wogan napping," he said tohimself with a smile, and he let them come quite close to him. He wasstanding motionless in the embrasure of the door, nor did he move whenthe two men stopped and whispered together, nor when they advancedagain, one behind the other. But he remarked that they held their cloaksto their faces. At last they came to a halt just in front of O'Toole.The leader produced a key.
"You stand in my way, my friend," said he, pleasantly, and he pushed byO'Toole to the lock of the door. O'Toole put out a hand, caught him bythe shoulder, and sent him spinning into the road. The man came back,however, and though out of breath, spoke no less pleasantly than before.
"I wish to enter," said he. "I have important business."
O'Toole bowed with the utmost dignity.
"_Romanus civis sum_," said he. "_Sum_ senator too. _Dic Latinamlinguam, amicus meus_."
O'Toole drew a breath; he could not but feel that he had acquittedhimself with credit. He half began to regret that there was to be alearned professor to act as proxy on that famous day at the Capitol. Hisantagonist drew back a little and spoke no longer pleasantly.
"Here's tomfoolery that would be as seasonable at a funeral," said he,and he advanced again, still hiding his face. "Sir, you are blocking myway. I have authority to pass through that door in the wall."
"_Murus?_" asked O'Toole. He shook his head in refusal.
"And by what right do you refuse me?"
O'Toole had an inspiration. He swept his arm proudly round and gave thereason of his refusal.
"_Balbus aedificabat murum_," said he; and a voice that made O'Toolestart cried, "Enough of this! Stand aside, whoever you may be."
It was the second of the two men who spoke, and he dropped the cloakfrom his face. "The King!" exclaimed O'Toole, and he stood aside. Thetwo men passed into the garden, and Wogan saw them from the window.
Just as O'Toole had blocked the King's entrance into the garden, so didWogan bar his way into the house.
"Who, in Heaven's name, are you?" cried the Chevalier.
"Nay, there's a question for me to ask," said Wogan.
"Wogan!" cried the Chevalier, and "The King!" cried Wogan in one breath.
Wogan fell back; the Chevalier pushed into the hall and turned.
"So it is true. I could not, did not, believe it. I came from Spain toprove it false. I find it true," he said in a low voice. "You whom I sotrusted! God help me, where shall I look for honour?"
"Here, your Majesty," answered Wogan, without an instant'shesitation,--"here, in this hall. There, in the rooms above."
He had seized the truth in the same second when he recognised his King,and the King's first words had left him in no doubt. He knew now why hehad never found Harry Whittington in any corner of Bologna. HarryWhittington had been riding to Spain.
The Chevalier laughed harshly.
"Sir, I suspect honour which needs such barriers to protect it. You arehere, in this house, at this hour, with a sentinel to forbid intrusionat the garden door. Explain me this honourably."
"I had the honour to escort a visitor to her Highness, and I wait untilthe visit is at an end."
"What? Can you not better that excuse?" said the Chevalier. "A visitor!We will make acquaintance, Mr. Wogan, with your visitor, unless you haveanother sentinel to bar my way;" and he put his foot upon the step ofthe stairs.
"I beg your Majesty to pause," said Wogan, firmly. "Your thoughts wrongme, and not only me."
"Prove me that!"
"I say boldly, 'Here is a servant who loves his Queen!' What then?"
"This! That you should say, 'Here is a man who loves a woman,--loves herso well he gives his friends the slip, and with the woman comes alone toPeri.'"
"Ah. To Peri! So I thought," began Wogan, and the Chevalier whispered,--
"Silence! You raise your voice too high. You no doubt are anxious inyour great respect that there should be some intimation of my coming.But I dispense with ceremony. I will meet this fine visitor of yours atonce;" and he ran lightly up the stairs.
Then Wogan did a bold thing. He followed, he sprang past the King, heturned at the stair-top and barred the way.
"Sir, I beg you to listen to me," he said quietly.
"Beg!" said the Chevalier, leaning back against the wall with his darkeyes blazing from a white face; "you insist."
"Your Majesty will yet thank me for my insistence." He drew apocket-book out of his coat. "At Peri in Italy we were attacked by fivesoldiers sent over the border by the Governor of Trent. Who guided thosefive soldiers? Your Majesty's confidant and friend, who is now, I thankGod, waiting in the garden. Here is the written confession of the leaderof the five. I pray your Majesty to read it."
Wogan held out the paper. The Cheval
ier hesitated and took it. Then heread it once and glanced at it again. He passed his hand over hisforehead.
"Whom shall I trust?" said he, in a voice of weariness.
"What honest errand was taking Whittington to Peri?" asked Wogan, andagain the Chevalier read a piece here and there of the confession. Woganpressed his advantage. "Whittington is not the only one of Walpole's menwho has hoodwinked us the while he filled his pockets. There are others,one, at all events, who did not need to travel to Spain for an ear topoison;" and he leaned forward towards the Chevalier.
"What do you mean?" asked the Chevalier, in a startled voice.
"Why, sir, that the same sort of venomous story breathed to you in Spainhas been spoken here in Bologna, only with altered names. I told yourMajesty I brought a visitor to this house to-night. I did; there was noneed I should, since the marriage is fixed for to-morrow. I brought herall the way from Rome."
"From Rome?" exclaimed the Chevalier.
"Yes;" and Wogan flung open the door of the library, and drawing himselfup announced in his loudest voice, "The King!"
A loud cry came through the opening. It was not Clementina's voice whichuttered it. The Chevalier recognised the cry. He stood for a moment ortwo looking at Wogan. Then he stepped over the threshold, and Woganclosed the door behind him. But as he closed it he heard Maria Vittoriaspeak. She said,--
"Your Majesty, a long while ago, when you bade me farewell, I demandedof you a promise, which I have but this moment explained to thePrincess, who now deigns to call me friend. Your Majesty has broken thepromise. I had no right to demand it. I am very glad."
Wogan went downstairs. He could leave the three of them shut up in thatroom to come by a fitting understanding. Besides, there was other workfor him below,--work of a simple kind, to which he had now for someweeks looked forward. He crept down the stairs very stealthily. The halldoor was still open. He could see dimly the figure of a man standing onthe grass.
* * * * *
When the Chevalier came down into the garden an hour afterwards, a manwas still standing on the grass. The man advanced to him. "Who is it?"asked the Chevalier, drawing back. The voice which answered him wasWogan's.
"And Whittington?"
"He has gone," replied Wogan.
"You have sent him away?"
"I took so much upon myself."
The Chevalier held out his hand to Wogan. "I have good reason to thankyou," said he, and before he could say another word, a door shut above,and Maria Vittoria came down the stairs towards them. O'Toole was stillstanding sentry at the postern-door, and the three men escorted thePrincess Caprara to the Pilgrim Inn. She had spoken no word during thewalk, but as she turned in the doorway of the inn, the light struck uponher face and showed that her eyes glistened. To the Chevalier she said,"I wish you, my lord, all happiness, and the boon of a great love. Withall my heart I wish it;" and as he bowed over her hand, she lookedacross his shoulder to Wogan.
"I will bid you farewell to-morrow," she said with a smile, and theChevalier explained her saying afterwards as they accompanied him to hislodging.
"Mlle. de Caprara will honour us with her presence to-morrow. You willstill act as my proxy, Wogan. I am not yet returned from Spain. I wishno questions or talk about this evening's doings. Your friend willremember that?"
"My friend, sir," said Wogan, "who was with me at Innspruck, is CaptainLucius O'Toole of Dillon's regiment."
"_Et_ senator too," said the Chevalier, with a laugh; and he added afriendly word or two which sent O'Toole back to his lodging in a highpleasure. Wogan walked thither with him and held out his hand at thedoor.
"But you will come up with me," said O'Toole. "We will drink a glasstogether, for God knows when we speak together again. I go back toSchlestadt to-morrow."
"Ah, you go back," said Wogan; and he came in at the door and mountedthe stairs. At the first landing he stopped.
"Let me rouse Gaydon."
"Gaydon went three days ago."
"Ah! And Misset is with his wife. Here are we all once more scattered,and, as you say, God knows when we shall speak together again;" and hewent on to the upper storey.
O'Toole remarked that he dragged in his walk and that his voice had astrange, sad note of melancholy.
"My friend," said he, "you have the black fit upon you; you are plainlydiscouraged. Yet to-night sees the labour of many months brought to itsdue close;" and as he lit the candles on his chimney, he was quiteamazed by the white, tired face which the light showed to him. Wogan,indeed, harassed by misgivings, and worn with many vigils, presented asufficiently woe-begone picture. The effect was heightened by thedisorder of his clothes, which were all daubed with clay in a mannerquite surprising to O'Toole, who knew the ground to be dry underfoot.
"True," answered Wogan, "the work ends to-night. Months ago I rode downthis street in the early morning, and with what high hopes! The workends to-night, and may God forgive me for a meddlesome fellow. Cup andball's a fine game, but it is ill playing it with women's hearts;" andhe broke off suddenly. "I'll give you a toast, Lucius! Here's to thePrincess Clementina!" and draining his glass he stood for a while, lostin the recollecting of that flight from Innspruck; he was far away fromBologna thundering down the Brenner through the night, with the sparksstriking from the wheels of the berlin, and all about him a glimmering,shapeless waste of snow.
"To the Princess--no, to the Queen she was born to be," cried O'Toole,and Wogan sprang at him.
"You saw that," he exclaimed, his eyes lighting, his face transfiguredin the intensity of this moment's relief. "Aye,--to love a nation,--thatis her high destiny. For others, a husband, a man; for her, a nation.And you saw it! It is evident, to be sure. Yet this or that thing shedid, this or that word she spoke, assured you, eh? Tell me what provedto you here was no mere woman, but a queen!"
The morning had dawned before Wogan had had his fill. O'Toole was verywell content to see his friend's face once more quivering like a boy'swith pleasure, to hear him laugh, to watch the despondency vanish fromhis aspect. "There's another piece of good news," he said at the end,"which I had almost forgotten to tell you. Jenny and the Princess'smother are happily set free. It seems Jenny swore from daybreak todaybreak, and the Pope used his kindliest offices, and for those tworeasons the Emperor was glad to let them go. But there's a question Iwould like to ask you. One little matter puzzles me."
"Ask your question," said Wogan.
"To-night through that door in the garden wall which I guarded, therewent in yourself and a lady,--the King and a companion he had withhim,--four people. Out of that door there came yourself, the lady, andthe King,--three people."
"Ah," said Wogan, as he stood up with a strange smile upon his lips, "Ihave a deal of clay upon my clothes."
O'Toole nodded his head wisely once or twice. "I am answered," he said."Is it indeed so?" He understood, however, nothing except that the roomhad suddenly grown cold.