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Updated: June 13, 2025
The Princess must remain in her prison at Innspruck; the Chevalier must lose his wife; the exertions of Wogan and his friends, their risks, their ingenuity, must bear no fruit because Jenny would not show herself three inches short of her ordinary height.
Misset descended and supped in company with Gaydon and Wogan, while Misset and O'Toole waited upon them as servants. It was a silent sort of supper, very different from the meal they had made that morning. For though the fare was better, it lacked the exhilaration. This delay weighed heavily upon them all.
Nor was her voice a guide to him, for she spoke her simple question without significance, "Must we wait, then, till the morning?" "There is a chance that they may come before the morning. I will watch on the top stair, and if they come I will make bold to wake your Highness." Their hostess upon this brought their supper into the room, and Wogan became at once aware of a change in her demeanour.
At nightfall he returned and mounted to the parlour, where Clementina awaited him. "There is no sign of Captain Misset," said he. Wogan was puzzled by the way in which Clementina received the news. For a moment he thought that her eyes lightened, and that she was glad; then it seemed to him that her eyes clouded and suddenly as if with pain.
"Will you tell me, Wogan," he asked, "I am by nature curious, was it the King who proposed this enterprise to you, or was it you who proposed it to the King?" The question had an extraordinary effect. Wogan was startled out of his chair. "What do you mean?" he exclaimed fiercely. There was something more than fierceness in the words, an accent of fear, it almost seemed to Gaydon.
'Yet when I consider this envelope, in the handwriting of one of those misguided gentlemen who are now in arms against their country, and the verses which it enclosed, I cannot but find some analogy between the enterprise I have mentioned and the exploit of Wogan, which the writer seems to expect you should imitate.
O'Toole, however, was sitting with his eyes closed and his head nodding, surrounded by scraps of the letter which he had danced to pieces. Wogan shook him by the shoulder, and he opened his eyes and smiled fatuously. "He means to tell his wife," he said with a foolish gurgle of laughter. "He must be an ass. I don't think if I had a wife I should tell her.
"Matters have gone so far that they can no longer be remedied. This marriage must take place." "True," said Wogan. "The King, indeed, is firmly inclined to it." "Yet he lingers in Spain." "That I cannot explain to you, but he has been most loyal. That you must take my word for, so must your Princess."
Facing him was the door of Clementina's room, on his left hand the passage with the oil lamp burning on a bracket, stretched to the house-wall; on his right the stairs descended straight for some steps, then turned to the left and ran down still within view to a point where again they turned outwards into the courtyard. Wogan saw to the priming of his pistols and laid them beside him.
He dismounted accordingly, and having ordered his supper asked for a room. "You will sleep here?" exclaimed his host. "I will at all events lie in bed," returned Wogan. The innkeeper took a lamp and led the way up a narrow winding stair. "Have a care, sir," said he; "the stairs are steep." "I prefer them steep."
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