the strength to rise
above her grief and try to rule? There hath been enough of mourning for
the temper of this people; we must have action. We are like
children--half-barbaric--more easily swayed by trifles that please
us--not of such sober poise as the people of Venice; but the good Lord
hath made us thus."

But Caterina was ready to do her part. "Whatever the customs of the
country doth require," she answered without hesitation, "I shall have
the strength, since it is for my people. Only, cara Madama di Thenouris,
thou and the Zia will provide what is best--I cannot think about these
things--they seem like trifles; till I grow stronger," she added
timidly, in a tone of appeal.

"Nay, beloved Lady; they are but trifles; we will spare you thought of
them, that the real matters may help the sooner to win your interest.
But it will not be displeasing to your Majesty to see your maidens about
you in robes of white--to hold a fairer memory of the infant King, in
his innocence and charm, than these robes of woe?" She touched the heavy
mourning folds of the Queen's garments, as she spoke.

Caterina started in surprise; but she answered in a moment, with a
little effort, "Aye--it will be sweeter--mine also, cara Madama; since
never can the grief be less. The Holy Mother, and my _figlio
dilettissimo_--it is enough that they know. And it is for his people!"

Yet in the loneliness of the night, after she had made her last prayer
at the tomb of Janus, and lighted the last taper with her own hands for
him in the Duomo San Nicolo, and wept her last tears before the altar
where, but a few short months ago her little son had been baptized and
crowned--kneeling on the slab that bore her baby's name--the sense of
desolation overpowered her.

"Even this little comfort I must lose," she cried; "Madonna mia--Janus
and my boy seemed nearer here! They leave me nothing--nothing!"

But later in her own chamber, alone in the solemn stillness, deep in
her heart an appeal that could not be uttered because of its intensity,
her strained gaze fastened on the brilliant, star-lit skies as if she
would pierce the mysteries of life and death and surprise some effluence
of spirit-love--some smile of tenderness from the angel of her little
child--a strange calm came to her--a dim perception of eternal
values--of the nothingness of time and place--of the everlastingness of
any love that has been true.--Then slowly she sank upon her knees, still
lo