Italy."

The Countess showed no more concern than she had shown over her
harp-string. She talked indifferently of other matters as though she had
barely heard his remark; but she fell into the trap. Wogan was aware
that the Governor of Prague was her kinsman; and that afternoon he left
the castle alone, and taking the road to Vienna, turned as soon as he
was out of sight and hurried round the town until he came out upon the
road to Prague. He hid himself behind a hedge a mile from Ohlau, and had
not waited half an hour before a man came riding by in hot haste. The
man wore the Countess's livery of green and scarlet; Wogan decided not
to travel by way of Prague, and returned to the castle content with his
afternoon's work. He had indeed more reason to be content with it than
he knew, for he happened to have remarked the servant's face as well as
his livery, and so at a later time was able to recognise it again. He
had no longer any doubt that a servant in the same livery was well upon
his way to Vienna. The roads were bad, it was true, and the journey
long; but Wogan had not the Prince's consent, and could not tell when he
would obtain it. The servant might return with the Emperor's order for
his arrest before he had obtained it. Wogan was powerless. He sent his
list of names to Gaydon in Schlestadt, but that was the only precaution
he could take. The days passed; Wogan spent them in unavailing
persuasions, and New Year's Day came and found him still at Ohlau and in
a great agitation and distress.

Upon that morning, however, while he was dressing, there came a rap upon
his door, and when he opened it he saw the Prince's treasurer, a foppish
gentleman, very dainty in his words.

"Mr. Warner," said the treasurer, "his Highness has hinted to me his