Part 14

It was like a pall upon them all to see their young mistress, usually so gracious and responsive, wholly absorbed in her troubled revery; but to-day her maidens played their sweetest strains upon their silvery lutes, without her answering smile; the gentlemen of her court sought in vain for some diversion to distract her; even the Lady Margherita could do nothing for her pleasure, while she watched in unobtrusive tenderness, feeling that quiet, however unsatisfying, was more welcome than speech.

The pages, at a sign from the Lady Margherita, had dipped their fronds of feather in the great vases of mountain-snow that stood between the columns, and waved them about the chamber; the queen followed their movements with a fleeting smile as this breath of coolness reached her, then fixed her eyes again, with a despairing look, upon the distant forest.

"She wearieth for the King," her maidens said low to each other, "and verily he may come to-night, for the days have already numbered more than he giveth of wont to the chase."

"She is not like herself," the Lady Ecciva de Montferrat whispered to her young Venetian companion, Eloisà Contarini, as the company strolled out upon the terraces at a sign from the Lady Beata Bernardini whose loving motherly eyes saw that Caterina needed rest and solitude. "She is strange and pale to-day--like one who hath seen a vision." Lady Ecciva spoke with deep seriousness, for superstition was a vital part of the Cyprian nature, belonging alike to peasant and noble.

"How meanest thou--a vision?" Eloisà questioned, startled.

The other turned to see that they were not followed and answered in an awe-struck tone: "The vision of the Melusina--the fate of the Lusignans! Didst thou not hear her shriek from the Castle of Lusignan in the dead of night?"

"The Melusina? Ecciva, who is the 'Melusina?'"

"She is the evil genius of the House of Lusignan," Ecciva explained to her excited companion, "all Cyprus knoweth that when the Melusina crieth three times from the towers of the ancient Château of Lusignan, in far France, it meaneth death, or some great misfortune to a ruler of this house."

"And thou--didst hear this lamentation verily, Ecciva? I should have died from fear!"

"Yea, thou being from Venice--not knowing that it bodeth not harm for thee--it is misfortune only for some ruler of their house of Lusignan."

"And that is naught to thee!" the Venetian girl exclaimed in astonishment. "Thy King--is he nothing to thee?"

"One knoweth not," the other answered nonchalantly. "There is Carlotta--both of the house of Lusignan; and she might be kinder than King Janus who seized the fiefs of my father because he came not forth to do him homage when he landed with his army from Alexandria."

Eloisà drew herself impetuously away from her companion who was watching her through long, half-closed eyes.

"Thou then--why art thou here?" she exclaimed indignantly, "in service of my beloved Lady, who is so good and fair, if thou lovest her not--nor the King!"

The youthful Dama Ecciva laughed lightly:

"Thou art a veritable turco for fierceness, Eloisà! I have naught against her Majesty, who truly is most fair and gracious--quite other than Carlotta--whom I love not at all! And if I held some grudge against the King for seizing of my father's lands (which broke his heart before he died) one cannot long be churlish in presence of our Janus, who hath a matchless fashion of grace with him, so that all think to have won his favor. Verily, that is a King for Cyprus!--he mindeth one of Cinyras. I must tell thee the tale of our hero of Cyprus some day, Eloisà."

"Aye: but tell me now--how camest thou at Court if the King hath wronged thy house?"

"Such eyes thou hast!--like a frightened child! I know not if I shall reach thy comprehension, were I to answer thee--but I, being only daughter to my father, Gualtier of Montferrat, who had no son--plead with my mother to send me hither when I came of age, to do homage loyally to King Janus, and claim our fiefs of him again--I being his vassal by right of long generations past--there was no other way."

"A vassal so loyal doth honor to him and thee!" the warm-blooded Venetian maid cried scornfully, with a toss of her dainty head.

Again the Lady Ecciva laughed lightly, but no shadow of discomposure marred the exquisite outlines of the beautiful, cold face: the skin, delicate and fine as ivory, showed no flush of color: her eyes and tresses were dark as night--the eye-brows slender, yet marking a perfect arc--the eyes beneath them tantalizing, inscrutable--the mouth rosy as that of a child--the fingers long, sinuous, emphasizing her speech with movements so unconscious that sometimes they betrayed what her words left unguessed.

"I do not understand thy vassalship," the Lady Eloisà said with hesitation--yet eager to know more of her companion's attitude toward the Queen; they had wandered far down the terrace to the basin where the swans were floating, opalescent in the sunset light.

Dama Ecciva broke off some oleander blossoms and flung them at the royal birds with teasing motion, watching them contentedly as, one by one, they floated away with ruffled plumage and sounds of protest.

"It is a right of our house for many generations," she explained; "being allied with royalty through the elder branch of the Montferrats, I am a dama di maridaggio by birth, and since there is no son of our house to offer homage in return for our fiefs, the duty was mine to do service to our King and claim our lands of him again. It was a simple ceremony--to bend the knee and kiss his hand, and make some empty vows--to see my mother Lady of her lands once more."

"Aye, it were well--if thy vows were not so 'empty,'" Eloisà protested. "How shouldst thou speak so coldly of thy vision, if thou hadst one spark of loyalty?"

"It was not my vision," her companion answered nonchalantly; "I slept the night through, the better to enjoy the day, which, verily, was not worth taking such trouble for,--so stupid hath it been!"

"But the vision?" Eloisà questioned impatiently--"there was no vision! Thou hast said it but to frighten me!"

"It is her Majesty who hath had the vision--one can tell it but to look at her: and for the three fatal shrieks--the shrieks to curdle one's blood--Josefa told of them but now. Some one hath heard them; but they hush it in the court for it meaneth disaster."

"I may not stay with thee!" Eloisà cried turning away in hot displeasure; "not for fear--for I do not believe thy vision: but because I hate thy mocking spirit and thy so strange loyalty--dama di maridaggio!"