drew their
dingy work-worn garments back, lest their touch should sully the
splendid Persian carpet spread for the Reverendissimo, little dreaming
that the hint of sorrowing love in their stolid faces robed them with
nobility and turned their hard-earned copper _carcie_ into a golden
gift.

In the many churches throughout the kingdom the humble people were
kneeling, praying their unlettered prayers for the beautiful young
Queen, with the more faith that the Holy Mother would listen because one
so great as the Archbishop of Nikosia ministered in person before their
sacred image of San Nicolo. For had it not been the booty of a
slaughtered Eastern city, won by Peter the Valiant in most holy warfare
of Crusade, which His Holiness of Rome would fain have counted among the
treasures of the One True Church within the Eternal City?

In the grim stone corridors of the impregnable fortress of Famagosta, a
crowd of humble pilgrims from the Troodos knelt, breathlessly fingering
their rosaries, while the monks of the Holy House upon the Mountain
moved among the scattered groups, holding each one his Cross of Thorns,
and reciting his low "Ave," that the people might follow in hushed
whispers.

But within the little Chapel of the Fortress, Hagios Johannes wrestled
alone in prayer; it leaped from his heart with groans and sobs that
might not be restrained.

Surely the merciful Father in Heaven would leave this pure spirit to
rule the distressed people of Cyprus:--"Were they found too sinful to
win so great a boon?--'_Let the priests, the ministers of the people,
weep between the porch and the altar!_'--My God, it is Thy word, spoken
by Thy prophet of old!" He pressed his hands against the crosses on his
breast and shoulders, lashing himself in a sort of frenzy from the
passion of his thought, not knowing that his blood trickled in slow
drops upon the very steps of the altar--the blood of man, defiling the
purity of that slab of onyx brought from the Temple at Jerusalem by the
first of the Kings of Lusignan.

The fortress, not the Palace of Famagosta, had been the birthplace of
the little Prince of Galilee; a wise precaution, possibly, in view of
the diversities of sympathy to be found among the nobles of Cyprus. In
the innermost of the apartments set apart for the Royal use, a grave
assemblage of learned men had gathered--men of many races and tongues,
of various schools of science, diverse in doctrines and ideals--all,
with t