"In whichever way--I--?" repeated Wogan.
"Yes," she answered. "There is Bologna. Say that Bologna is our goal. I
shall go with you to Bologna. There is Venice and the sea. Bid me go,
then; hoist a poor scrap of a sail in an open boat. I shall adventure
over the wide seas with you. What will you do?"
Wogan drew a long breath. The magnitude of the submission paralysed him.
The picture which she evoked was one to blind him as with a glory of
sunlight. He remained silent for a while. Then he said timidly,--
"There is Ohlau."
The girl shivered. The name meant her father, her mother, their grief,
the disgrace upon her home. But she answered only with her question,--
"What will you do?"
"You would lose a throne," he said, and even while he spoke was aware
that such a plea had not with her now the weight of thistledown.
"You would become the mock of Europe,--you that are its wonder;" and he
saw the corner of her lip curve in a smile of scorn.
"What will you do?" she asked, and he ceased to argue. It was he who
must decide; she willed it so. He turned towards the door of the hut and
opened it.
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