, "a man, for less, hath paid the forfeit of his
life."

"Life were worth little," she answered undaunted, "if one must forfeit
it for speaking truth--or for so poor attempt as mine to spare our Queen
in such extremity."

He had looked to see her cower and shrink as men had often done under
the glare of his angry gaze; but she stood before him tall, straight and
calm--so near that he might have felled her to the ground; there was no
fear in her deep eyes while she gave him back his look of hatred,
unflinching; dimly he realized that this woman had measured the manhood
in him and found it beneath her scorn.

Then--as if he had not been--she turned her gaze from him.

"Your Grace," she said proudly, "it is for the last time,--your
Queen--whom you have sworn to uphold--and I--Margherita, of the most
ancient noble house of the de Iblin, who have ever served their
Sovereigns with their life--we _demand_ our Prince of you; and all
Cyprus is with us!"

But if these dastardly usurpers were inexorable, heaven, more merciful,
sent the respite of unconsciousness to quiet the mother's anguish just
as she could bear no more. Rizzo was speaking when she tottered and
fell into the shielding arms of Margherita.

"We may need the infant," he was explaining pitilessly, "to force a deed
of renunciation in favor of Alfonso, _Prince of Galilee_."

"A sword thrust were more merciful," cried Margherita, now roused to a
passion of scorn. "How may a man dare perjure his soul to bring her to
this!"

Rizzo having nothing further to gain from the interview left the chamber
precipitately, muttering oaths; but the Archbishop lingered, from a dim,
dawning sense of compunction, watching helplessly while Dama Margherita
ministered to the victim of these Councillors who had been created to
assist their youthful Queen in her weary task of ruling.

"More air!" Dama Margherita ordered of the guards, pointing to the
closely barred windows. "Strong wine--and one of Her Majesty's ladies to
aid me--I may not leave her for an instant. The Lady of the Bernardini
were best--will your Grace give the order? We must needs save her life
while she hath yet a favor to grant."

XXIII

It was the _festa_ of San Triphilio, patron-saint of the city of
Nikosia; the great church on the bluff beside the castle was filled with
the sickly flames of paltry candles brought by the peasants from far and
near. From the quaint tower on the castle-wall one might