the pain
was less, once she could believe he was to marry a woman who did not
love him. She despised the woman for her stupidity; none the less, that
was the wife she would choose, if she must needs choose another than
herself. "I have a mind to see this fool-woman of yours," she said
doubtfully. "Why does she not love the King?"

Wogan could have answered that she had never seen him. He thought
silence, however, was the more expressive. The silence led Maria
Vittoria to conjecture.

"Is there another picture at her heart?" she asked, and again Wogan was
silent. "Whose, then? You will not tell me."

It might have been something in Wogan's attitude or face which revealed
the truth to her; it might have been her recollection of what the King
had said concerning Wogan's enthusiasm; it might have been merely her
woman's instinct. But she started and took a step towards Wogan. Her
eyes certainly softened. "I will go with you to Bologna," she said; and
that afternoon with the smallest equipment she started from Rome. Wogan
had ridden alone from Bologna to Rome in four days; he had spent three
days in Rome; he now took six days to return in company with Mlle. de
Caprara and her few servants. He thus arrived in Bologna on the eve of
that 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 cavalcade
clattered through the Porta Castiglione. Wogan led the way to the
Pilgrim Inn, where he left Maria Vittoria, saying that he would return
at 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 by
Maria Vittoria, and they then proceeded to the little house among the
trees. 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 had
fallen, and there was no longer a porter at the gate--a little hatch was
opened, and a servant inquired his business.

"I come with a message of the utmost importance," said Wogan. "I beg you
to inform her Highness that the Chevalier Wogan prays for two words with
her."

The hatch was closed, and the servant's footsteps were heard to retreat.
Wogan's anxieties had bee