"Why not the Convent, Father?" she asked, still irresolute. "I am so weary."

Then his voice took on a note of authority--she shrank before it as the tones rang out like the cry of a prophet:

"It is not for thee; for thy place is here.

"If suffering is sent thee, thou must bear it here.

"If loneliness hath come to thee, thou shalt meet it here.

"If thou art desolate, the children of thy people are thine.

"If thy dream of love is broken, the love of thy people is about thee.

"If thy heart and hands are empty, the duties of thy realm shall fill them.

"_Thou shalt keep thy vow!_

"Thou shalt make none other; none other may be so holy for thee.

"Thou hast tasted joy and found it bitter; in duty shalt thou find sweetness and strength.

"And the Lord thy G.o.d, and the Madonna and the Holy Christus shall bless thee. Amen.

"I have the revelation!"

The crisp sentences crashed upon each other like a rushing torrent, hot with inspiration, challenging acceptance. She had risen to her feet and stood quivering before him, her eyes held to his by a strange fascination--the wild glow within his giving her sight of her dormant self and will.

He raised his crucifix above her and she slowly fell on her knees; and so he left her.

XXIX

For days after the visit of Hagios Johannes, Caterina scarcely spoke, or noticed what was pa.s.sing around her; and the Lady of the Bernardini and Dama Margherita, with hearts aching from the burden of their pity, were helpless before such desolation.

But at last the young Queen turned to them with mournful eyes of comprehension, holding out her hands to clasp theirs in a convulsive pressure, rousing herself heroically from her absorption and nerving her dormant will to meet the unwelcome stress of life again.

"The Holy Mother hath left you for me to love," she said in a tremulous voice. "Life is not all a blank."

They could not answer her for tears; but her own eyes were dry.

"I thought," she said, "if it might but have been the will of Christ that death should come to me--also"--she paused a moment to steady her voice, "it would have been sweet--I was so weary. And when it did not come to lift me out of the shadow, I longed to carry my broken heart into some holy Sisterhood and be at rest--I felt no strength to live. I thought it might have been the will of the Madre Sanctissima, for she hath suffered; and I know not how to live without my _figlio dilettissimo_."

Then suddenly she clasped her hands crying out with the pa.s.sion of prayer:

"My G.o.d! I would have trained him for thee! He should have been a n.o.ble man and a Christian King. Why hast Thou stricken me!"

She turned to them wide-eyed with her question but the Lady Beata, for answer, could only fold compa.s.sionate arms about her--soothing her silently; so young and so bereft.

But Caterina struggled into quiet speech again, as in a confessional--sorely needing some comfort of human sympathy after her long, silent conflict.

"I thought it might have been the will of the Blessed Mother that I should rest; but Hagios Johannes hath shown me that it might not be; I have taken my vows again to serve my people--to live for them; the padre hath promised me that strength shall come."

Her lip quivered, but she bore herself bravely. "Thou wilt help me, Zia," she continued, in pathetic appeal, "and thou, my Margherita; for life is difficult. And Aluisi--he will think what must be done for the people until my strength returneth--for I have forgotten how to think."

She pressed her hands tightly against her forehead as if to compel the resistant brain-power.

Then suddenly she laid her hot, trembling hand on that of her compa.s.sionate, motherly friend, her voice rising into a wail--"Father Johannes hath said that I must give the people all the love I gave my baby--but not yet--I cannot do it yet!--Mother of Sorrows forgive me!--_he doth not know_."

She fell back on her pillows exhausted by her emotion, while in a low, crooning voice the name she loved to utter broke from her longing lips again, like a threnody:

"_Figlio dilettissimo!_"

The Lady Beata's heart was wrung with pity.

"Nay, nay, Carinissima," she said, stooping over the couch and speaking with tender decision, "Hagios Johannes could not know what mothers feel!

This holy love for thy little one shall bide ever with thee and grow with thy life. It is thy breath of Heaven! It shall nerve thee to do the work of thy child--to live for the people he would have ruled. Him thou shalt love forever--it is the will of the Madre Beatissima:--but after thy child shall come his people."

A change pa.s.sed over the strained, worn face of the young Queen, like a faint breath of comfort.

"Zia mia," she murmured, laying her thin white hand in the warm, restful clasp: and so pa.s.sed into the first quiet sleep that she had known for days.

While the unhappy Queen was bravely struggling to recover her poise, many things were happening; for the death of the infant King had been the signal for further manifestations of discontent from a party of Cyprian n.o.bles whose dread of the "Lion of the velvet paw" increased as the need for some firm governing hand became more evident. They would have liked to anger Venice to the point of withdrawing all protection and leaving them to their own devices--yet they dared not attempt it openly, appreciating the futility of any armed resistance that una.s.sisted Cypriotes might offer.

For the Turk was watching from his near point of vantage; and if he had hitherto been content with sending his private ships to ravage and terrorize the towns along the coast, this might but be the prelude to more ambitious projects. Naples was still eagerly awaiting some favorable moment to lay hands upon the coveted island, and rumors of waning favor had been wafted from Alexandria, since Cyprus had allowed the tribute due to the Sultan to fall in arrears.

Carlotta, upon hearing of the death of the little Ja.n.u.s III, had at once renewed her claim to the throne; some of the ancient n.o.bles had declared for her, and it was felt, rather than known, that her partisans were secretly gathering strength. There was evidently some hostile influence at work in the innermost circle of the Court.

And now, when Cyprus was at extremity, Venice alone--alert, powerful, resourceful--could be relied upon for aid: her protection of the island in the time of Rizzo's conspiracy, had given her the right to a voice in the government--or so she claimed, and there were none to gainsay it.

Her _Provveditori_ were armed with the plenary power that was not invariably used to the advantage of Cyprus, yet the vigilant Signoria were ever ready with fresh instructions--if the paw were of velvet, it was no longer sheathed!

Letters of condolence were duly sent from the Serenissimo; so, also, came without delay the declaration that the Queen had inherited the full rights vested in her son, and should reign alone; with the further announcement, so simply stated that it might well seem beyond refutation--_that Venice was heir to her beloved daughter, Caterina Veneta_.

No wonder that the Cypriotes gnashed their teeth in their powerlessness to dispute this insolent a.s.sertion, while their indignation effervesced in petty intrigues!

But Dama Ecciva's spirits had revived.

"It is more like the olden days," she said, well content; "for if there is no splendor of court-life such as our good Ja.n.u.s loved, at least there is matter for gossip to brighten the mortal dulness of a court in mourning! The Amba.s.sador hath returned from the Court of Alexandria, and hath made relation of his mission and declared the favor of the Sultan, which, to the surprise of some"--she paused and glanced about her to make sure that all were listening--"hath been granted to Her Majesty the Queen Caterina--and _not_ to Queen Carlotta."

"There is no Queen Carlotta!" a chorus of indignant young voices answered her. "If the Lady of the Bernardini were here----"

"Aye--but she is not." Ecciva returned placidly: "The Madonna be praised for a moment's liberty to utter one's thought! She and the Dama Margherita who knoweth more surely to tie one's honest speech than even the great Lady of the Bernardini, are gone to the Sala Regia to represent Her Majesty and receive the splendid gifts which His Excellency the Amba.s.sador hath brought from Alexandria. And this am I sent to tell you, by the Lady of the Bernardini--who is a gracious tyrant and would save a bit of pleasure for our childish souls out of the dulness of the days. And when we hear the champing of horses in the great court of the palace--but there is already a tumult below--fly then!"