us--my
husband--to this kingdom of Cyprus--he being only son to the King. For I
knew not that his mother was _not_ the Queen, until I came hither."

She paused again to gather strength, lifting her guileless great eyes to
his, in agonized appeal, while he watched her dumbly.

"And now, my Father," she said, throwing back her head with sudden
vigor, and with the dignity of a great resolve, "this is my question,
which hath come to me in the watches of the night and will not be
denied, and for which I have summoned thee. I--being wife to Janus, who
hath been crowned King of this people--and I, with him, crowned Queen;
and by his will left Queen of Cyprus--with Council, appointed by him, to
help me rule; shall I, a Christian woman--a Venetian and _not_ a
Cyprian--his widow--_hold this kingdom against Carlotta_, who is
daughter to the King, the father of my husband--and to the rightful
Queen, Elena--his father's lawful wife?"

He was dumbfounded and could not answer her at once; but while he sought
for words he bowed his head in mute reverence.

"My daughter," he said at length, "hath this question been put to thee
by any men of Cyprus?"

"Nay, Father; but it hath come to me in these sad nights, because I fain
would do the _right_--that which is well for my people: and life is very
difficult."

"My people," again, uttered with the accent of a mother who folds her
child to her heart--it was a revelation; but he must probe more deeply
before he could answer her.

"And this palace--and all the palaces of this estate?" he asked slowly,
as if he could not comprehend her. "Thou wouldst renounce this splendor
when none hath asked it of thee?"

"I would even bear the weight of it, if it be _right_," she said,
"though rest were sweeter."

"Thou wouldst be free, perchance, to seek thy home in Venice?"

"Nay, nay!" she exclaimed, shrinking from him--"never Venice
again--since she hath sent me hither, knowing all, and told me not. I
cannot go back to Venice!"

He pondered gravely.

"Then what is thy will, my daughter?"

"To do the right!" she cried vehemently; "out of my own great sorrow to
expiate the wrong! May it not be, my Father, if I shrink not from the
right at any cost?"

"I will consider," he said, "since thy will is strong for this
sacrifice."

"Sacrifice!" she cried, in her amazement breaking all reserve. "Oh,
Father! To call _this_ 'sacrifice,' when the very light of life is gone
from me! He was so beaut