ss of Rome, who charged the Queen and certain
gentlemen of her kingdom with being 'wicked and ungrateful,' and
assuring her that they were everywhere so regarded, for 'certain reasons
well known to the writer,' which were not named.

She had put the letter aside, meaning to discuss it with her Chamberlain
in the morning; but in the darkness and solitariness of her chamber, it
assumed new proportions, and she finally sent to pray the Lady
Margherita to come to her, and they sat far into the night--Dama
Margherita trying in vain to comfort her with her assurance that she did
not believe the letter to be genuine.

"His Holiness could not speak without reason," she asserted; "and having
reasons, why should he not give them--that the fault might be confessed
and atoned for?--_There are no reasons._ It is the work of some one who
seeketh to annoy."

Dama Margherita had a positive way of seeing things, which was often
helpful to Caterina's more gracious nature.

"Cara Margherita--it was His Grace himself who gave the letter into my
hand."

But Dama Margherita had no reverence for the Archbishop of Nikosia.

"I think, your Majesty, that letter is not genuine," she repeated,
uncompromisingly.

"But--Margherita--the most reverend, the Archbishop would not----"

Caterina broke off with a vivid flush and left the sentence unfinished,
remembering that there had been a previous Archbishop of Nikosia whose
code had not been fashioned by her ideals.

Dama Margherita had but just withdrawn when the uproar in the streets
began and she rushed back at once to her Lady's side. The sounds came
muffled through the massive walls of the castle for there was no outlook
on the Piazza; it was the low muttering of a storm, none the less
terrible because undeclared. But there could be no mistaking the dread
clangor of the bell, and the two young, helpless women clung to each
other in trembling silence.

Caterina was the first to recover her composure; she made a pathetic
effort to steady her voice as she spoke.

"Margherita, I must know at once what this meaneth. If one of the
Council would come to me--there is always one in the Castle--my Uncle
Andrea--or the Councillor Zaffo--I would they had not sent Aluisi and
the Zia back to the palace!--and--and--_I will go to the Boy_."

"Dear Lady," Margherita besought her. "Let me rather bring him hither.
The Council will be coming at once--they would rather find you here. I
will come with th