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 helped me to beguile it," said
Whittington.
"Gaydon!" exclaimed the Chevalier, "are you certain?"
"A man may make mistakes in the darkness," said Whittington.
"To be sure."
"And I never had an eye for faces."
"It was not Gaydon, then?" said the Chevalier.
"It may not have been," said Whittington, "and by the best of good
fortune I said nothing to him of any significance whatever."
The Chevalier was satisfied with the reply. He had chosen the right
attendant for this nocturnal visit. Had Gaydon met with a more observant
man than Whittington outside the Caprara Palace, he might have got a
number of foolish suspicions into his head.
Gaydon, however, was at that moment in his bed, saying to himself that
there were many matters concerning which it would be an impertinence for
him to have one meddlesome thought. By God's blessing he was a soldier
and no politician. He fell asleep comforted by that conclusion.