A head appeared at the window, a woman's head. The light was behind,
within the room, so that Wogan could not see the face. But the shape of
the head, its gracious poise upon the young shoulders, the curve of the
neck, the bright hair drawn backwards from the brows,--here were marks
Wogan could not mistake. They had been present before his eyes these
many months. The head at the open window was the head of the Princess.
Wogan felt a thrill run through his blood. To a lover the sight of his
mistress is always unexpected, though he foreknows the very moment of
her coming. To Wogan the sight of his Queen had the like effect. He had
not seen her since he had left Ohlau two years before with her promise
to marry the Chevalier. It seemed to him, though for this he had lived
and worked up early and down late for so long, a miraculous thing that
he should see her now.
She leaned forward and peered downwards into the lane. The light
streamed out, bathing her head and shoulders. Wogan could see the snow
fall upon her dark hair and whiten it; it fell, too, upon her neck, but
that it could not whiten. She leaned out into the darkness, and Wogan
set foot again upon the lower window-sill. At the same moment another
head appeared beside Clementina's, and a sharp cry rang out, a cry of
terror. Then both heads disappeared, and a heavy curtain swung across
the window, shutting the light in.
Wogan remained motionless, his heart sinking with alarm. Had that cry
been heard? Had the wind carried it to the sentry at the door? He
waited, but no sound of running footsteps came to his ears; the cry had
been lost in the storm. He was now so near to success that dangers which
a month ago would have seemed of small account showed most menacing and
fatal.
"It was the Princess-mother who cried out," he thought, and was reminded
that the need of persuasions was not ended for the night with the
conquest of Jenny. He had to convince the Princess-mother of his
authority without a line of Prince Sobieski's writing to support him; he
had to overcome her timidity. But he was prepared for the encounter; he
had foreseen it, and had an argument ready for the Princess-mother,
though he would have preferred to wring the old lady's neck. Her cry
might spoil everything. However, it had not been heard, and since it had
not been heard, Wogan was disposed to forgive it.
For the window was still open, and now that the curtain was drawn no ray
of light escaped from the room to betray the man who climbed into it.