At Ohlau Wogan came to the end of his luck. From the moment when he
presented his letter he was aware of it. The Prince was broken by his
humiliation and the sufferings of his wife and daughter. He was even
inclined to resent them at the expense of the Chevalier, for in his
welcome to Wogan there was a measure of embarrassment. His shoulders,
which had before been erect, now stooped, his eyes were veiled, the fire
had burnt out in him; he was an old man visibly ageing to his grave. He
read the letter and re-read it.
"No," said he, impatiently; "I must now think of my daughter. Her
dignity and her birth forbid that she should run like a criminal in fear
of capture, and at the peril very likely of her life, to a king who,
after all, is as yet without a crown." And then seeing Wogan flush at
the words, he softened them. "I frankly say to you, Mr. Warner, that I
know no one to whom I would sooner entrust my daughter than yourself,
were I persuaded to this project. But it is doomed to fail. It would
make us the laughing-stock of Europe, and I ask you to forget it. Do you
fancy the Emperor guards my daughter so ill that you, single-handed, can
take her from beneath his hand?"
"Your Highness, I shall choose some tried friends to help me."
"There is no single chance of success. I ask you to forget it and to
pass your Christmas here as my very good friend. The sight is longer in
age, Mr. Warner, than in youth, and I see far enough now to know that
the days of Don Quixote are dead. Here is a matter where all Europe is
ranged and alert on one side or the other. You cannot practise secrecy.
At Ohlau your face is known, your incognito too. Mr. Warner came to
Ohlau once before, and the business on which he came is common
knowledge. The motive of your visit now, which I tell you openly is very
grateful to me, will surely be suspected."
Wogan had reason that night to acknowledge the justice of the Prince's
argument. He accepted his hospitality, thinking that with time he would
persuade him to allow the attempt; and after supper, while making
riddles in verse to amuse some of the ladies of the court, one of them,
the Countess of Berg, came forward from a corner where she had been busy
with pencil and paper and said, "It is our turn now. Here, Mr. Warner,
is an acrostic which I ask you to solve for me." And with a smile which
held a spice of malice she handed him the paper. Upon it there were ten
rhymed couplets. Wogan solved the first four, and found that the initial
letters of the words were C, L, E, M. The answer to the acrostic was
"Clementina." Wogan gave the paper back.