in greater
need of a friend than now. If you continue on your present course you
are undone. The Church party is resolved to hunt down the Illuminati,
and both sides would rejoice to see you made the scapegoat of the Holy
Office." She sprung up and laid her hand on his arm. "What can I do to
convince you?" she said passionately. "Will you believe me if I ask you
to go away--to leave Pianura on the instant?"

Odo had risen also, and they faced each other in silence. There was an
unmistakable meaning in her tone: a self-revelation so simple and
ennobling that she seemed to give herself as hostage for her words.

"Ask me to stay, cousin--not to go," he whispered, her yielding hand in
his.

"Ah, madman," she cried, "not to believe me NOW! But it is not too late
if you will still be guided."

"I will be guided--but not away from you."

She broke away, but with a glance that drew him after. "It is late now
and we must set forward," she said abruptly. "Come to me tomorrow early.
I have much more to say to you."

The words seemed to be driven out on her quick breathing, and the blood
came and went in her cheek like a hurried messenger. She caught up her
riding-hat and turned to put it on before the Venice mirror.

Odo, stepping up behind her, looked over her shoulder to catch the
reflection of her blush. Their eyes met for a laughing instant; then he
drew back deadly pale, for in the depths of the dim mirror he had seen
another face.

The Duchess cried out and glanced behind her. "Who was it? Did you see
her?" she said trembling.

Odo mastered himself instantly.

"I saw nothing," he returned quietly. "What can your Highness mean?"

She covered her eyes with her hands. "A girl's face," she
shuddered--"there in the mirror--behind mine--a pale face with a black
travelling hood over it--"

He gathered up her gloves and riding-whip and threw open the door of the
pavilion.

"Your Highness is weary and the air here insalubrious. Shall we not
ride?" he said.

Maria Clementina heard him with a blank stare. Suddenly she roused
herself and made as though to pass out; but on the threshold she
snatched her whip from him and, turning, flung it full at the mirror.
Her aim was good and the chiselled handle of the whip shattered the
glass to fragments.

She caught up her long skirt and stepped into the open.

"I brook no rivals!" said she with a white-lipped smile. "And now,
cousin," she added gaily, "to horse!"

2.15