"Never was truer word spoken," said Wogan, stoutly.
"Then why is the King in Spain?"
They had come back to the first question. Wogan had no new answer to it.
He said,-"I do not know."
For a moment or two Clementina searched his eyes. It seemed in the end
that she was satisfied he spoke the truth. For she said in a voice of
greater gentleness,-"Then I will acquaint you. Will you walk with me for half a mile?"
Wogan bowed, and followed her out of the garden. He could not think
whither she was leading him, or for what purpose. She walked without a
word to him, he followed without a question, and so pacing with much
dignity they came to the steps of a great house. Then Clementina halted.
"Sir," said she, "can you put a name to the house?"
"Upon my word, your Highness, I cannot."
"It is the Caprara Palace," said she, suddenly, and suddenly she bent
her eyes upon Wogan. The name, however, conveyed no meaning whatever to
him, and his blank face told her so clearly. She nodded in a sort of
approval. "No," she said, relenting, "you did not know."
She mounted the steps, and knocking upon the door was admitted by an old
broken serving-man, who told her that the Princess Caprara was away. It
was permitted him, however, to show the many curiosities and treasures
of the palace to such visitors as desired it. Clementina did desire it.
The old man led her and her companion to the armoury, where he was for
spending much time and breath over the trophies which the distinguished
General Caprara had of old rapt from the infidels. But Clementina
quickly broke in upon his garrulity.
"I have a great wish to see the picture gallery," said she, and the old
man tottered onwards through many shrouded and darkened rooms. In the
picture gallery he drew up the blinds and then took a wand in his hand.
"Will you show me first the portrait of Mlle. de Caprara?" said
Clementina.
It was a full-length portrait painted with remarkable skill. Maria
Vittoria de Caprara was represented in a black dress, and the warm
Italian colouring of her face made a sort of glow in the dark picture.
Her eyes watched you from the canvas with so life-like a glance you had
a thought when you turned that they turned after you. Clementina gazed
at the picture for a long while, and the blood slowly mounted on her
neck and transfused her cheeks.