ht! Yet once it befell that Sir
Tristan came stealthily into the sleeping chamber of the prince, and the
pages of the night who stand at arms beside the couch had fallen to the
pavement, heavy with some strange sleep. But Donna Maria had watched and
warned and our Janus was already stealing far on his way to Alexandria,
when Sir Tristan drew aside the curtains and plunged his dagger deep
into the mass of pillows which in the darkness wore some semblance of a
sleeping form. It was told that he howled with rage at such childish
thwarting, for Donna Maria had men at hand who came running at the
outcry and took Sir Tristan into safe keeping."

"Madre Sanctissima!" Caterina exclaimed in her excitement, and urging
the recital with a quick motion of her hand.

"It was the last time, sweet Lady, that our Janus might feel Carlotta's
power; for soon he returned from Alexandria to take possession of Cyprus
by order of the Sultan, our Suzerain, upheld by his armies and his
treasure. For the charm of the Prince had won their hearts; the
circumstance of his birth and a woman's rights were of small account in
the estimation of the Sultan, and the march of our young King from his
landing to his capital was a victory--the people kneeling in his
pathway--wild with the joy of welcome."

Margherita had told the tale with eloquence, her breath coming quickly,
her color rising, but Caterina was fairly startled by the dramatic ring
in her voice as she told how Carlotta, at the last moment, finding
further resistance impossible, had sent an envoy to Janus to promise him
the revenues of his See, once more, if he would but lay down his arms
and renew his allegiance. But the magnificent ambassador from
Alexandria, whom the Sultan had sent with Janus to see his will
enforced, made reply:

"It is the will of my master--the Sultan of Sultans, the Lord of lords,
the King of kings--that Janus, prince of Cyprus, should reign as King;
and my master, the Sultan of sultans, will acknowledge no other
sovereign."

Then, suddenly, Caterina felt that she could bear no more; she must be
alone to think, and she held up her hand to entreat silence. How tender
she would be to him on whom such cruelty had been wreaked--how
loving--to make amends for all the hatred of the past! How brave he was,
her true knight--how forgiving--to have told her nothing of all this
tragedy! It was not strange that his people loved him so--his people who
had thronged upon his pa