sy strength--a vision of love and loyalty!

Aluisi Bernardini breathed a sigh of content as he moved quickly away
with a sense of his responsibility being shared; for it was only now
that he felt that he knew Margherita, and she would be ever near the
Queen, a Cypriote of the Cypriotes, but loyal to her heart's core. He
could have kissed the hem of her trailing robe as it floated towards
him, stirred by the motion of his passing--for in the maiden's tale she
had revealed herself to him: it was not of her grace and talent, nor of
the poem that he thought--but on the surety of her staunchness of
soul--of her consecration: he heard her voice again ringing in the
words:

"_We are true men: be others untrue!_"

XI

A Little page who had been leaning on the marble parapet beyond the
terrace, came stealthily and beckoned to a comrade on the steps of the
loggia.

"A troop of horse were coming across the plain," he explained in low,
agitated tones, as the other reached his side, and followed him back to
the post where he had been watching. "I saw them all the time Dama
Margherita was reciting--Holy Mother, but it was long!--I thought the
King was coming, and it was I that should carry the news to her
Majesty--I came near crying out! But I could not see his orange plume,
and I waited. They came slowly--_Santissima Vergine!_ _He was not
there!_"

He clutched his comrade's doublet with a trembling hand and turned an
ashen face towards him.

"What ailest thee, Tristan?--thou who art already a damoiseau and shalt
be a true knight? Thou art verily dreaming--I see nothing."

"They are gone within--in the first great court of the palace--those who
came. They were the King's gentlemen--_all_ the King's gentlemen--Messer
Andrea among them. I thought the champing would have roused the Queen
who hath been watching all the day. I am not afraid----" he gasped; "but
it was so horrible!--Thou knowest, Guido, Messer Andrea never leaveth
the King."

The boy's eyes were dark with fear.

"He will come with the others--he will surely, surely come," Guido
asseverated.

They clasped each other close and pressed their fresh cheeks together,
trembling so that they could scarcely speak, yet struggling to be brave,
as became little pages that should be knights.

"They were so long," poor Tristan said in a choking whisper, "and it was
so still--_so still_--no music, and they returning from the chase!
And--when they came nearer