n that she was at once contrite with remorse.

"My lord, I hurt you, so you see how I am proven mean. Give me your hand
and laugh to me; laugh with your heart and eyes and lips. I am jealous
of your pain. I am a woman. I would have it all, gather it all into my
bosom, and cherish each sharp stab like a flower my lover gives to me. I
am glad of them. They are flowers that will not wither. Add a kiss,
sweetheart, the sharpest stab, and so the chief flower, the very rose of
flowers. There, that is well," and she rose from her knees and turned
away. So she stood for a little, and when she turned again she wore upon
her face the smile which she had bidden rise in his.

"Would we were free!" cried the Chevalier.

"But since we are not, let us show brave faces to the world and hide our
hearts. I do wish you all happiness. But you will go to Spain. There's
a friend's hand in warrant of the wish."

She held out a hand which clasped his firmly without so much as a
tremor.

"Good-night, my friend," said she. "Speak those same words to me, and no
word more. I am tired with the day's doings. I have need of sleep, oh,
great need of it!"

The Chevalier read plainly the overwhelming strain her counterfeit of
friendliness put upon her. He dared not prolong it. Even as he looked at
her, her lips quivered and her eyes swam.

"Good-night, my friend," said he.

She conducted him along a wide gallery to the great staircase where her
lackeys waited. Then he bowed to her and she curtsied low to him, but no
word was spoken by either. This little comedy must needs be played in
pantomime lest the actors should spoil it with a show of broken hearts.

Maria Vittoria went back to the room. She could have hindered Wogan if
she had had the mind. She had the time to betray him; she knew of his
purpose. But the thought of betrayal never so much as entered her
thoughts.

She hated him, she hated Clementina, but she was loyal to her King. She
sat alone in her palace, her chin propped upon her hands, and in a
little in her wide unblinking eyes the tears gathered again and rolled
down her cheeks and on her hands. She wept silently and without a
movement, like a statue weeping.

The Chevalier found Whittington waiting for him, but the candle in his
lantern had burned out.

"I have kept you here a wearisome long time," he said with an effort. It
was not easy for him to speak upon an indifferent matter.

"I had some talk with Major Gaydon which