The Queen had been restless and could not sleep, being greatly troubled by a missive which the Archbishop had that morning delivered into her hands and which contained a reprimand of no gentle nature, purporting to come from His Holiness of Rome, who charged the Queen and certain gentlemen of her kingdom with being 'wicked and ungrateful,' and assuring her that they were everywhere so regarded, for 'certain reasons well known to the writer,' which were not named.
She had put the letter aside, meaning to discuss it with her Chamberlain in the morning; but in the darkness and solitariness of her chamber, it assumed new proportions, and she finally sent to pray the Lady Margherita to come to her, and they sat far into the night—Dama Margherita trying in vain to comfort her with her assurance that she did not believe the letter to be genuine.
"His Holiness could not speak without reason," she asserted; "and having reasons, why should he not give them—that the fault might be confessed and atoned for?—There are no reasons. It is the work of some one who seeketh to annoy."
Dama Margherita had a positive way of seeing things, which was often helpful to Caterina's more gracious nature.
"Cara Margherita—it was His Grace himself who gave the letter into my hand."
But Dama Margherita had no reverence for the Archbishop of Nikosia.
"I think, your Majesty, that letter is not genuine," she repeated, uncompromisingly.
"But—Margherita—the most reverend, the Archbishop would not——"
Caterina broke off with a vivid flush and left the sentence unfinished, remembering that there had been a previous Archbishop of Nikosia whose code had not been fashioned by her ideals.