"Aye, _Rizzo_, child. Did I tell thee I had news? And for their absences
may Heaven be praised!--though, truly, they have deserved worse."

"They have deserved _death_," said Eloisa solemnly: "death between the
columns of the Piazzetta--death and confiscation."

"So, my Venetian, thou never wilt remember that we are Cyprians! The
drama of confiscation will surely follow upon their deserts, and there
will be fiefs the more for their Cyprian betters. But as for
death--'death between the columns'--I could almost be glad that Rizzo
hath escaped. How shall one not admire the masterful scheming of the
man, and the insolence and power of him?--he is fairly great in
wile.--Have I not told thee news enough, and of a quality to make thy
hair stand on end--the comely hair of a most decorous young Venetian
maid?--and thou hast never a word of admiration. Verily, thou art
tiresome!"

"It is so terrible, Ecciva: I cannot jest, nor gloat on it for news."

"There, there, sweet child!" Ecciva had slipped easily back into her
old, mocking, taunting way--"go look out thy tire for the morrow and try
on thy jewels, for the pageant will be fine: and, do thy best, I shall
outshine thee--thee and the Dama Margherita! One pageant in six months
of woe--it is not over much."

XXVI

The pageant had been brilliant, as one may read in the chronicles of the
time.

Even the Queen of the Adriatic, in all her pride, could offer little to
surpass the splendor of this great esplanade by the sea where the review
had been held. The pavement of costly mosaic stretched along the coast,
guarded by the lofty tower which jutted out upon the sea; while the
other side of this unusual piazza was dominated by the famous Citadel
which climbed the steep acclivity with intricate windings of crenellated
walls, dotted with sentry towers where banners were floating. In that
clear atmosphere distance was not appreciable, and the castellated
slopes seemed to lead up to the highest peak of the Troodos, whose
snow-crowned summit flashed its crystal against the deep blue of the
Cyprian sky.

The massive walls of modern Famagosta skirted the esplanade, and above
their mighty bulwark rose the domes and pinnacles of her palaces and
churches--a city of delight. There were strange monuments breaking the
sky-line; there were statues and fountains gleaming in the sunlight;
there were hedges of rose and myrtle outlining the terraced gardens on
the hill-slopes, where