Clementina

A head appeared at the window, a woman's head. The light was behind,

within the room, so that Wogan could not see the face. But the shape of

the head, its gracious poise upon the young shoulders, the curve of the

neck, the bright hair drawn backwards from the brows,--here were marks

Wogan could not mistake. They had been present before his eyes these

many months. The head at the open window was the head of the Princess.

Wogan felt a thrill run through his blood. To a lover the sight of his

mistress is always unexpected, though he foreknows the very moment of

her coming. To Wogan the sight of his Queen had the like effect. He had

not seen her since he had left Ohlau two years before with her promise

to marry the Chevalier. It seemed to him, though for this he had lived

and worked up early and down late for so long, a miraculous thing that

he should see her now.

She leaned forward and peered downwards into the lane. The light

streamed out, bathing her head and shoulders. Wogan could see the snow

fall upon her dark hair and whiten it; it fell, too, upon her neck, but

that it could not whiten. She leaned out into the darkness, and Wogan

set foot again upon the lower window-sill. At the same moment another

head appeared beside Clementina's, and a sharp cry rang out, a cry of

terror. Then both heads disappeared, and a heavy curtain swung across

the window, shutting the light in.

Wogan remained motionless, his heart sinking with alarm. Had that cry

been heard? Had the wind carried it to the sentry at the door? He

waited, but no sound of running footsteps came to his ears; the cry had

been lost in the storm. He was now so near to success that dangers which

a month ago would have seemed of small account showed most menacing and

fatal.

"It was the Princess-mother who cried out," he thought, and was reminded

that the need of persuasions was not ended for the night with the

conquest of Jenny. He had to convince the Princess-mother of his

authority without a line of Prince Sobieski's writing to support him; he

had to overcome her timidity. But he was prepared for the encounter; he

had foreseen it, and had an argument ready for the Princess-mother,

though he would have preferred to wring the old lady's neck. Her cry

might spoil everything. However, it had not been heard, and since it had

not been heard, Wogan was disposed to forgive it.

For the window was still open, and now that the curtain was drawn no ray

of light escaped from the room to betray the man who climbed into it.