But if these dastardly usurpers were inexorable, heaven, more merciful, sent the respite of unconsciousness to quiet the mother's anguish just as she could bear no more. Rizzo was speaking when she tottered and fell into the shielding arms of Margherita.
"We may need the infant," he was explaining pitilessly, "to force a deed of renunciation in favor of Alfonso, Prince of Galilee."
"A sword thrust were more merciful," cried Margherita, now roused to a passion of scorn. "How may a man dare perjure his soul to bring her to this!"
Rizzo having nothing further to gain from the interview left the chamber precipitately, muttering oaths; but the Archbishop lingered, from a dim, dawning sense of compunction, watching helplessly while Dama Margherita ministered to the victim of these Councillors who had been created to assist their youthful Queen in her weary task of ruling.
"More air!" Dama Margherita ordered of the guards, pointing to the closely barred windows. "Strong wine—and one of Her Majesty's ladies to aid me—I may not leave her for an instant. The Lady of the Bernardini were best—will your Grace give the order? We must needs save her life while she hath yet a favor to grant."
XXIII
It was the festa of San Triphilio, patron-saint of the city of Nikosia; the great church on the bluff beside the castle was filled with the sickly flames of paltry candles brought by the peasants from far and near. From the quaint tower on the castle-wall one might see them coming in little processions, winding through the forest that clothed the plains below—pausing on the banks of the stream Pedea, to gather water-bloom and rushes to scatter before the shrine of San Triphilio, in memory of the early days when the city had sprung from the marshes to stand—fair and firm upon the hillside above them, beautiful to behold—girt about with impregnable walls and gateways, guarded by its famous citadel, and fortified within by churches dedicated to many saints.