Part 72

"Nay; leave tragedy, Caterina; I am come to bring thee word of a great opportunity."

"For my people?--For Cyprus?" she responded with instant interest.

He laughed, a curious, unmirthful laugh.

"Aye--for 'thy people'--'for Cyprus,' verily. Listen! Thou hast it in thy power, at this moment, to bestow a gift upon the Republic--thou who art the Daughter of Venice--that shall make thee memorable throughout the ages."

She was taken unaware; yet suddenly the happenings of all the past years seemed to converge in her, as their central point, binding her hand and foot so that she might not free herself: an icy bolt shot through her: "I--I fail to understand," she answered faintly, for there was somewhat in his look that interpreted the meaning she would fain have missed.

"Aye: it is hard to understand--that thou, who art one of our Casa Cornaro--a woman--upon whom Venice hath bestowed such fatherly and unceasing care--should have it in thy power so to reward the Republic, who might have seized the throne of Cyprus, without waiting for thy gift! Yet, of her grace, the Serenissima Repubblica doth verily ask it of thee, as a favor--thou who art Daughter to Venice. Thou mayest well find it hard to understand!"

She rose, indignantly.

"Hath the Signoria of Venice broken faith with her ally of Cyprus? Is she not content to wait for the sovereignty of this realm until my death--knowing that by my will Venice hath been created heir to this throne--that she should wish to deprive me now of that which hath come to me through so great sorrow, by the will of my husband, the King?"

He watched her curiously, while the color came and went with her tumultuous emotions, and her troubled breathing; and he changed his tone--being subtle.

"I said that the Signoria would have thanked thee for thy gift of the realm; and that the ages should have decreed thee great honor for thy queenly giving: but it would have been more of their courtesy than of thine. For thou dost verily hold too great a matter this little kingdom of Cyprus--forgetting the nets that have many times been spread for thee; and the disfavor of those Cyprian nobles who would have a man to rule over them and not a woman--young and without power--unless Venice be her ally and defender! Even now, thou mightest have been a slave in the land of the Turk, were it not for thy faithful upholding by the galleys of Venice, which came between thee and the devastators. Where is the generous response of a woman who, without them, were nothing?--I thought thee more noble!"

She was bewildered, and he had cut her to the quick.

"Nay, Zorzi: thou dost not comprehend. A Queen must first be faithful to her people."

"Aye--'to her people!'" he retorted scornfully. "And are thy people of Venice, or of Cyprus?--that thou mayest be faithful neither to one nor to the other! Wilt thou show thy faith to Cyprus by turning thine only helpers and defenders from thee, that thine enemies of the coasts may have free entrance to thine unprotected harbors, while the galleys of Venice no longer waste upon thine ingratitude their unrequited care?"

"It is not true!" she cried; "they would not thus desert me."

"It is like a woman to build a belief without foundation," he answered her--calmly, as one who makes a study at his ease.

"And this is verily thy mission from Venice--and to me?"

"I have spoken," he said, "but the time is short: thou mayest not delay to reply--Venice hath so decreed."

"My people love me," she pleaded, with a gasp. "I have only them to live for!"

"Thou hast only them, if thou wilt perforce give up thine own," he answered readily; "it is of thine own choice."

"What meanest thou?" she questioned, grasping his arm in terror: "Zorzi!"

He shook off her touch and answered her unmoved. "The choice will be thine, between thy people of Cyprus--who love thee, thou sayest--and thy people of Venice--we of the Casa Cornaro and the Signoria, whom thou wilt offend and who have spent themselves upon thee. They will leave thee to thine own devices, withdrawing every galley from thy Cyprian coasts."

She gave a low moan, pressing her trembling hands to her brow, as if brain-weary from perplexity; then she turned to her brother again with the exclamation:

"How shouldst thou so utterly desert me, Zorzi--thou, and my people whom I love!"

"The mercy of the Republic is at an end," he assured her uncompromisingly, "and for the Casa Cornaro--thou dost mistake, which seemeth easy for thee; it is rather thou who wilt disgrace me--thy brother, with his honorable pride in his house and his most noble country. For him and his children there will no longer be honors, nor any favor of the Senate: upon thy brother, who doth so faithfully counsel thee and from his heart, will fall the enmity of the Republic who hath forbidden him to fail in his mission. And what is left for a patrician who hath suffered exile and confiscation, but death and the extinction of his house? This will be thy doing."

She sprang up, attempting to reach a silken cord that swung upon the wall near her; but Cornaro raised his hand above her and lightly tossed it aside.

"No one shall come between us until I have thy promise: it lieth between me and thee."

"I need some one to help me," she implored; "and Aluisi is of our Casa Cornaro,--he would understand."

"Two are enough," he said,--"nay, too much; for where the matter is urgent, one sufficeth."