led from the irony of the tone.

"They are my people--they love me," she persisted, "and thou canst not
know how the care for them doth fill my life. Have I the right to give
them to any other?"

He laughed again. "Thou hast a veritable talent for creating problems
wherewith to vex thyself, my sister, conscience-tossed! Hath one a right
to give that which he can no longer hold? Art thou the first who could
not rule, to _abdicate_ in favor of a stronger sceptre?"

"We must ask these questions," she said struggling to be firm, "for duty
is not easy to find."

"Nor fortune," he answered coldly. "And one must be wise indeed to know
when 'one may grasp it by the hair'--as thou hast the chance with this
most gracious proffer of the Signoria before thee to reject."

She turned her head away that he might not read her thoughts, while she
dwelt upon the full meaning of the cruel word he had spoken so
easily--_to abdicate_: it meant the disgrace of rulers, the
acknowledgment of supreme weakness--unless to the greater power belonged
the supreme right.

Was this supreme Right vested with Venice, that she might bow without
question? The word smote upon her like a touch of ice and her heart
quailed.

Meanwhile Cornaro was watching, urging her decision with further
arguments. The Signoria would provide for her; she should retain her
title; she should still be styled '_Caterina, Regina_;' she should live
in royal state.--But--_if she did not yield_--our Lord himself in heaven
would be displeased with her, hating no sin so much for any Christian as
base ingratitude;--with much more, to which she made no answer.

And thus the night wore on.

At last she rose, weary and heart-broken.

"My brother," she said in trembling tones, "none of thine arguments move
me: yet thou knowest I should grieve if thou, because of me, shouldst
suffer exile and disgrace, or thy children be held from any honor they
might win. But even for this I could not yield. Thy happiness and mine
must be as naught in this great crisis, against the welfare of my
people. Them only I must consider."

A torrent of imprecation rose to his lips, but he left it unuttered. For
as he turned his angry glance upon her and saw her face pallid and
distraught by the anguish of her struggle, with the strange gleam of
unearthly strength in her sorrowing eyes--it would have seemed like
cursing a spirit. He crossed himself unconsciously, drawing a little
apart from her, and