Therefore she waited in patience. It was still winter at Innspruck,
though the calendar declared it to be spring. April was budless and
cold, a month of storms; the snow drifted deep along the streets and M.
Chateaudoux was much inconvenienced during his promenades in the
afternoon. He would come back with most reproachful eyes for Clementina
in that she so stubbornly clung to her vagabond exile and refused so
fine a match as the Prince of Baden. On the afternoon of the 25th,
however, Clementina read more than reproach in his eyes, more than
discomfort in the agitation of his manner. The little chamberlain was
afraid.

Clementina guessed the reason of his fear.

"He has come!" she cried. The exultation of her voice, the deep breath
she drew, the rush of blood to her face, and the sudden dancing light in
her eyes showed how much constraint she had set upon herself. She was
like an ember blown to a flame. "You were stopped in your walk. You have
a message for me. He has come!"

The height of her joy was the depth of Chateaudoux's regret.

"I was stopped in my walk," said he, "but not by the Chevalier Wogan.
Who it was I do not know."

"Can you not guess?" cried Clementina.

"I would not trust a stranger," said her mother.

"Would you not?" asked Clementina, with a smile. "Describe him to me."