of Venice
as "_of the full and free determination_ of our most serene and most
beloved daughter, Caterina Cornaro."

For the grace of Venice--when her smiling mood was on her, as for the
fear of her life-crushing frown, men did her bidding without question,
and never _dared_ to fail.

But Venice still claimed a final act of gift and of submission, where
the Venetian people might be her witnesses: and when the domes of San
Marco flashed in the sunset light, the procession entered in solemn
state--the Senate and Signoria and all the Ducal Court, in full
attendance--and once more Caterina knelt before the altar and repeated
her hard lesson, taught by that imperious ruler who knew how to hold the
sea "in true and perpetual dominion," and who would not suffer 'his
beloved daughter' to fail in one jot or tittle of her act of
renunciation.

The homecoming of the Daughter of Venice was over.

* * * * *

Then, at last, came rest, and the sylvan-shades of Asolo--vine-crowned
among the hills, with the sea spreading far below--blue, shimmering,
laughing--as if she laved but shores of content, under happy skies.

Whatever of good there remained for Caterina to do in this petty domain
which the munificence of the Signoria had bestowed in exchange for
Cyprus, she did with a gracious and queenly hand, so that her realm was
wider than her territory, for she had won the love of the people
wherever she had passed, and in the years of her tried and chequered
life, no evil was ever spoken of her. Yet often the gentle Queen slipped
away from the modest festivities she had devised for the pleasure of her
slender mimic court--the music tourneys--the recitations--the fanciful
quibbles in words--which could have had for her great weariness of empty
hands but a pale moonlight charm--to the lovely gardens of her hillside
castle, to woo sad memories--and sweet as sad--of the far-off terraces
of Potamia which Janus had prepared for his girl-bride.

Then once again Venice decreed a pageant for the gentle Lady of Asolo.

It was night, and the skies had clothed themselves in gloom; out on the
lagoon the lights in the shipping scarce pierced the mists, and the rain
fell in flurries, drifting in gusts under the arcades of the Ducal
Palace, and lifting the cloaks of the Senators and Councillors who
sought shelter there while the procession was forming. But none turned
back for the wildness of the night, for the orde