he was quivering still with anger and she did not answer him.

"Speech is useless," he said, "if it be not reasonable: and none
grieveth more than our gentle Lady that the welfare of the State
demandeth the exile of one who hath conspired against it. She, of her
grace, will have it that others have misled thee;--that of thine own
heart thou wouldst not have sought this treachery."

"_Treachery!_" her eyes flamed. "If that be treachery----Listen! I
thought to send thee away without my confidence and leave thee to thy
blind struggle to rule our people of Cyprus--thou and the fair little
Queen! Yet I _will_ tell thee, for I cannot leave thee so."

She had come nearer. "Will the nobles in their far lands bow at _her_
bidding? _Never!_ They need a _man_ to sway them, for the good of
Cyprus--one who knoweth how to rule--of strength and constancy to shape
their kingdom and make it great. For _such_ a man the nobles would rise
in their might."

"There is none such," he answered coldly, "and talk of treason--except
it were a maid's wild dreaming--must be brought before the Council of
the Realm. Unless thou hast confession of some real import to the
State--or names that we should know--and for the telling much might be
forgiven thee--I bid thee farewell. Truly it is hard for thee, my poor
Dama Ecciva; but in thy heart thou knowest that the penalty could not be
less.--May thy reason and the years soften it to thee."

She had not listened to his last words, but stood irresolute as he took
his ceremonious farewell: then suddenly she sprang towards him and
caught his hand to detain him. Her face had grown soft and eager.

"It _is_ 'confession'!" she cried, "'of import to the State'--and
'names' that thou shouldst know. There are many nobles whom I could
reach--I will name thee all their names when we have spoken together:
those who suffer banishment with me are but a few. At word of mine they
would kindle into fire and make a glory of Cyprus!" She had drawn
herself up proudly, her eyes were flashing; she had clenched her small
hands so tightly over his that he could not withdraw it.

"Poor child!" he said compassionately; "shall one woman rule them, and
not another!--It is the madness of imprisonment and exile; it shall be
forgiven thee."

He tried to make his escape, but she clung to his hand yet more closely,
so that he could not move without dragging her with him.

"It is not forgiveness that I want," she cried furiously,