nta Croce in
procession, to bring it hither--for truly it can do anything!" another
woman cried eagerly. She crossed herself and bowed devoutly as she
spoke. "For all the world knoweth that once, when it had been lost and
the good pater would prove if he had really found it, he held it in the
heart of the fire until it glowed like the very flame itself. But when
he drew it forth, it was burned not at all--_Santissima Vergine!_--but
wood as before--being too holy to burn. A miracle! And then----"

"I also know the miracle about Queen Alixe," another woman interposed,
eager to show her knowledge of the marvel of the Relic, "for my sister
dwelleth by the gate of the Convent of the Troodos, and she hath much
learning of the most blessed Relic;--how that Queen Alixe laid the bit
on her tongue--she who could never speak fairly--more like a blockhead
of a stammering peasant than a Royal lady--may Heaven forgive me! And
how for ever after, her speech flowed freely, so that all might
understand her. It must be good to be in Cyprus."

"Holy Mother! but it should be lonely in the great palace," a young
peasant-mother confided to her nearest neighbor, as she shifted the baby
to her other arm and arranged her wrappings tenderly, with hands that
looked too rough for such loving ministration. She was thinking of her
Gioan who would be waiting for her with a gruff greeting when she
returned, but who was good to her, if he often scolded when the porridge
was burned. But men were that way about women's work, and never knew
that an angel would forget when the baby cried. "_But_ she was growing
heavy, blessed be the Madonna! Why wasn't there a light?--It would be
good if one might sleep!"

A mounted messenger came out from the fort and dashed across the square;
the crowd holding breath, parting silently before him, but surging
tumultuously back, to wait--though they were very weary and the shifting
clouds were dropping rain. But there were yet no lights in the palace
windows.

It was growing darker and the wind was rising; a quick flurry of drops
extinguished some of the torches, and in the greater gloom the voice of
the wind wailed like an evil omen. But still the women would not
go--waiting for that sign of _the light in the palace windows_.

Only they pressed closer to each other and crossed themselves in terror,
with smothered ejaculations and adjurations, shuddering from the
superstitions that enthralled their simple natures; for