maternal
tenderness, from the great pity within her.

"Beloved Lady!" she cried reassuringly; "they bring us glad tidings."

For she read it in their faces as the Bernardini and Mutio di Costanzo
knelt in the low doorway to offer their homage.

But the young Queen seemed to tremble between life and death as she
stretched forth her arms to them with a low wail that almost unnerved
those strong faithful men.

"My Boy! My Boy!--your Prince!"

How may joy immeasurable be told in an instant's space, and one
schooled to agony not die from the swift change to such rapture of
content!

For the Bernardini had answered her: "Safe in the Palazzo Reale: and the
people are clamoring for their Queen!"

And because the Dama Margherita had seen the great shining light in his
eyes her heart went out to him, and she knew that the safety of the
Royal infant meant a tale of loyalty and danger that Aluisi Bernardini
would never tell.

* * * * *

But at last the Admiral and the Bernardini led Caterina forth into the
piazza, pale and calm--the glory of a great gladness in her eyes--the
suffering which had left deep traces in her face disguised by the
exaltation of the moment so that she scarcely seemed less radiant than
when she had last stood there on the day of the coronation fete with her
child in her arms--as any woman of the people might have done, the
tender, baby-cheek pressed close to hers.

Some of them remembered it as they fell on their knees around her,
kissing her hands, offering her homage--reparation--sobbing out their
devotion:

"Regina! Madonna Nostra Reale! Regina! Regina! May the Holy Mother bless
her and our little King!"

She was not a thing of State and jewels, cold and distant like the proud
Queen Elena, but a tender human mother, fair and young, and her heart
had been all but broken when that wicked Chief of Council had stolen
away the child!--the people might gather close about her and weep and
rejoice with her.

"_Madonna Nostra Reale!_"

The air was still ringing with the loyal shouts of the multitude when
Vettore Soranzo with that eagerly expected Venetian fleet, weighed
anchor in the port of Famagosta and with his men streamed through the
unresisting gates of the Fortress into the Piazza San Nicolo, where the
young Queen still stood radiant.

* * * * *

With the holy calm of night peace brooded over the distracted city and
the Cy