the Emperor flies at. Once you are out of reach, his mere dignity must
hold him in from wreaking vengeance on your friends."

Wogan went into the inn, and calling Misset told him of his purpose. He
would drive her Highness to Peri, a little village ten miles from Ala,
but in Italy. At Peri, Mrs. Misset and her husband were to rejoin them
in the morning, and from Peri they could travel by slow stages to
Bologna. The tears flowed from Clementina's eyes when she took her
farewell of her little woman. Though her reason bowed to Wogan's
argument, she had a sense of cowardice in deserting so faithful a
friend. Mrs. Misset, however, joined in Wogan's prayer; and she mounted
into the trap and at Wogan's side drove out of the town by that street
along which the horseman had ridden.

Clementina was silent; her driver was no more talkative. They were alone
and together on the road to Italy. That embarrassment from which Wogan's
confession of fear had procured them some respite held them in a stiff
constraint. They were conscious of it as of a tide engulfing them.
Neither dared to speak, dreading what might come of speech. The most
careless question, the most indifferent comment, might, as it seemed to
both, be the spark to fire a mine. Neither had any confidence to say,
once they had begun to talk, whither the talk would lead; but they were
very much afraid, and they sat very still lest a movement of the one
should provoke a question in the other. She knew his secret, and he was
aware that she knew it. She could not have found it even then in her
heart to part willingly with her knowledge. She had thought over-much
upon it during the last day. She had withdrawn herself into it from the
company of her fellow-travellers, as into a private chamber; it was
familiar and near. Nor would Wogan have desired, now that she had the
knowledge, to deprive her of it, but he knew it instinctively for a
dangerous thing. He drove on in silence while the stars paled in the
heavens and a grey, pure light crept mistily up from the under edges of
the world, and the morning broke hard and empty and cheerless. Wogan
suddenly drew in the reins and stopped the cart.

"There is a high wall behind us. It stretches across the fields from
either side," said he. "It makes a gateway of the road."

Clementina turned. The wall was perhaps ten yards behind them.

"A gateway," said she, "through which we have passed."

"The gateway of Italy," answered Wogan; a