In the meantime other messages had also come from Rome--letters to Pisanio and to Imogen. The one to Pisanio contained a terrible command. The one to Imogen filled her heart with joy. She was bidden to set off at once to Milford Haven, where Leonatus stated he was at that time, and where he wished his wife to join him. Imogen was all excitement and eagerness to be off; she begged Pisanio with pretty impatience to tell her how quickly they could get to Milford Haven, and chid him for the slowness of his reckoning. Her quick wit at once devised a scheme whereby she could escape unnoticed, and in the guise of her waiting-woman she contrived to slip out of the palace to where Pisanio was ready to conduct her on her journey. But alas, poor lady, on the road to Milford Haven a terrible awakening awaited her. Pisanio showed her the letter he had received from Leonatus, and there she read of the crime of which he accused her, and that Pisanio had orders to put her to death. Knowing herself blameless, Imogen was nearly killed by the cruel words, and in heart-broken accents she begged Pisanio to strike at once, and obey his master’s bidding. But Pisanio indignantly flung his sword away, refusing to stain his hand with such a deed. He had only brought her thus far, he said, to think out what was best to be done. His master must certainly have been deceived; some villain, peculiarly skilful in his art, had done this injury. Pisanio said he would give notice to Leonatus that Imogen was dead, sending some token of the fact as he had been commanded. Imogen would be missed at Court, and that would confirm his words. “Why, good fellow, what shall I do the while? Where bide? How live?” asked poor Imogen. “Or what comfort shall I take in life when I am dead to my husband?” Pisanio asked if she would like to return to Court, but Imogen declared she would have no more of Court, or father, or the clownish Cloten, who had so pestered her with his love suit. Pisanio said that if she would not stay at Court she could not remain in Britain, whereupon Imogen asked were there not other places in the world than Britain where the sun shone? In the volume of the world, the little isle of Britain was no more than a swan’s nest in a great pool.