'Wait,' said Nick suddenly, and hitched himself higher. 'Nick, she will see you.' 'No, she's occupied. George!' 'What is it?' 'It's Lady Oxford's miniature she is staring at, and not yours at all.' The Parson grew quite stiff and rigid. 'Are you sure?' he whispered, in an awe-stricken voice. 'I can see the diamonds flashing. 'Faith my friend, but I had done better to have let you throw them into the sea at Genoa.' A groan broke from the Parson. 'Why didn't you, Nick? What am I to do now?' 'I can see the face. 'Tis the miniature of her ladyship that you gave out to be Queen Clementina's. Did you ever meet Gaydon, George?' he asked curiously. 'Gaydon?' asked Kelly. 'What in the world has Gaydon to do with Rose?' 'Listen, and I'll inform you. He told my brother Charles a very pretty story of the Princess Clementina. It seems that when she escaped out of her perils and came to Bologna to marry the Chevalier, who had, just at the moment when he expected his bride, unaccountably retired into Spain, she stayed at Bologna, and so, picking up the gossip of the town, expressed a great desire to visit the Caprara Palace. 'Twas there the lady lived who had consoled the Chevalier in his anxieties. No doubt he never expected the Princess to get out of the Emperor's prison. But Charles got her out, and here was she at Bologna. To be sure, the Princess was a most natural woman, eh? And when she came to the Caprara Palace she asked to be shown the portrait of the Princess de la Caprara. That was more natural still. Gaydon describes how she looked at the portrait, and describes very well. For sure Rose is looking at Lady Oxford's in just the same way.' 'That's good news, Nick,' said Kelly, grasping at a straw of comfort. 'For the Princess Clementina forgave.' 'Ah, but there's a difference I did not remark at the first. I remember Gaydon said the Princess turned very red, while your little friend Rose, on the contrary, is white to the edge of her lips. Sure, red forgives, when white will not. George,' and Mr. Wogan ducked his head beneath the window-ledge, 'she is coming to the window! For the love of mercy don't move, or she will hear!' George pressed himself close to the railings. Wogan hunched himself against the wall in the most precarious attitude. Would she open the window? Would she see them? Both men quaked as they asked themselves the question, though they had come thither for no other purpose but to see her and be seen of her. Wogan threw a glance over his shoulder to where the light of the window fell upon the road. But no shadow obscured it. 'Sure, she's not coming to the window at all,' said Nick. 'Oh, Nick,' whispered the Parson, 'you made my heart jump into my throat.' Wogan drew his head up level with the window again, and again ducked.