"Serenissimo Principe et Domine excellentissimo, Domine Nicolò Marcello, Dei gratia inclito duci Venetiarum, etc., Domine colendissimo."
The broad band of white-dressed skin by which it was to be closed was already fastened to the letter, though it hung loose with the silken fillets of blue and white which were to attach the great Seal of Janus the III—the helpless infant king whom his wily ministers had stolen from his mother's arms.
Rizzo, opening the casket, stood for a moment gloating over the mastery he was to achieve with this little instrument of the Great Seal of the Kingdom—his triumphant gaze fastened on his scarlet treasure—a pretty toy of wax for such a ruffian to find of consequence, bearing the escutcheons of Jerusalem, of Cyprus, of Armenia and Lusignan, with the naked sword of Peter the Valiant for a crest; and for border, encircling the Seal, the legend punctuated by heraldic roses—
"Jacobus, Dei Gratia, 22 us Rex Jherusalem, Cipri et Armenia."
"Rizzo, Rex!"
The Chief of Council syllabled the sweet morsel of his outrageous thought without utterance. There was no further need for any keeper of the Privy Seals; there was no longer any need for anyone but Rizzo in this Council of the Realm!
But Dama Margherita, closely watching and fearing treachery, stole nearer to the table, standing over the open letter which she had read from end to end before the Chief of Council, in his absorption, had perceived her action. Now he felt her condemnatory eyes upon him, like the merciless gaze of a fate, and he would not look towards her while he rudely seized the letter and pushed it nearer to the Queen.
"It is well for your Majesty to understand," he said imperatively, "that this matter is not one for choice—but of necessity."
"We do not understand," the Queen answered haughtily, but already her voice showed failing strength.