Wogan left Misset to stand sentinel, and hurried off upon his business.
He ran from stable to stable, from inn to inn. The Prince of Baden had
hired thirty-six horses; six more were nowhere to be found. Wogan would
be content with four; he ended in a prayer for two. At each house the
door was shut in his face. Wogan was in despair; nowhere could delay be
so dangerous as at Trent, where there were soldiers, and a Governor who
would not hesitate to act without orders if he suspected the Princess
Clementina was escaping through his town. Two hours had passed in
Wogan's vain search,--two hours of daylight, during which Clementina had
sat in an unharnessed carriage in the market square. Wogan ran back to
the square, half expecting to find that she had been recognised and
arrested. As he reached the square, he saw that curious people were
loitering about the carriage; as he pushed through them, he heard them
questioning why travellers should on so hot a morning of spring sit
muffled up in a close, dark carriage when they could take their ease
beneath trees in the inn-garden. One man laughed out at the Princess and
the comical figure she made with her scarlet cloak drawn tight about her
face. Wogan himself had bought that cloak in Strasbourg to guard his
Princess from the cold of the Brenner, and guessed what discomfort its
ermine lining must now be costing her. And this lout dared to laugh and
make her, this incomparable woman, a butt for his ridicule! Wogan took a
step towards the fellow with his fists clenched, but thought the better
of his impulse, and turning away ran to the palace of Prince Taxis.
This desperate course alone remained to him; he must have speech with
the Prince-bishop himself. At the palace, however, he was informed that
the Prince was in bed with the gout. Mr. Wogan, however, insisted.
"You will present my duties to the Prince; you will show him my
passport; you will say that the Count of Cernes has business of the last
importance in Italy, and begs permission, since the Prince of Baden has
hired every post-horse in the town, to requisition half a dozen
farm-horses from the fields."
Mr. Wogan kicked his heels in the courtyard while the message was taken.
At any moment some rumour of the curious spectacle in the square might
be brought to the palace and excite inquiry. There might be another
courier in pursuit besides the man whom Gaydon kept a prisoner. Wogan
was devoured with a fever of impatience. It seemed to him hours before
the Prince's secretary returned to him. The secretary handed him back
his passport, and on the part of the Prince made a speech full of
civilities.