Ecciva broke the tension with her exclamation: "No, Contarini mia, all knights are not like that: I said it but to tease thee. Tell it to the Dama Margherita with a face like that, and she will make it a second 'Kypria,' for she hath, verily the gift. I have not such a tale of knighthood to tell thee: yet, if thou carest for my tidings they would make a canto for the new Kypria of the Dama Margherita, in contrast to thine. And first of the traitor Saplana—of whom there is news."
Eloisà greeted the tidings with an exclamation of relief.
"He—and the precious group of noble villains—or of villain nobles—one's tongue takes twist in talking trash—the more when it is true; a precious group of traitors, all on the wild seashore—how the Dama Margherita would bring out the booming of the waves! These doughty villains fleeing because, forsooth, they feared the fleet of Venice!—tossing their reins on the necks of the steeds that brought them, and leaving them to wander at their will. A little gold and their arms and bucklers in the fishing skiff that brought them to the galley of the noble Ferdinand—the goodly King of Naples,—his well-beloved son, Alfonso, wore not for long the title of the 'Prince of Galilee!'—Is it a pretty tale for the poem of the Margherita? The tale of the fleeing villains!"
"But who went with the Commander?—Which others?"
"There was the nephew, Almerico—much in temper because thy noble uncle the Contarini would not yield up to his traitorous care the Castle of Cerines for the signature forced from the Queen. There was Fabrici—the very Reverend, the Primate of Cyprus. And then—and then—not last, but first, and deepest and darkest traitor of them all—the very darkest villain of them all—there was Rizzo!"
"Ecciva! Not Rizzo!—the land is free of him!"
"Aye, Rizzo, child. Did I tell thee I had news? And for their absences may Heaven be praised!—though, truly, they have deserved worse."
"They have deserved death," said Eloisà solemnly: "death between the columns of the Piazzetta—death and confiscation."
"So, my Venetian, thou never wilt remember that we are Cyprians! The drama of confiscation will surely follow upon their deserts, and there will be fiefs the more for their Cyprian betters. But as for death—'death between the columns'—I could almost be glad that Rizzo hath escaped. How shall one not admire the masterful scheming of the man, and the insolence and power of him?—he is fairly great in wile.—Have I not told thee news enough, and of a quality to make thy hair stand on end—the comely hair of a most decorous young Venetian maid?—and thou hast never a word of admiration. Verily, thou art tiresome!"
"It is so terrible, Ecciva: I cannot jest, nor gloat on it for news."